Operation: LEADUH
by GoldenFlither
Summary: The leaders who work most effectively, it seems to me, never say "I". They don't think "I". They think "we"; they think "team". They accept responsibility and don't sidestep it, but "we" gets the credit. This is what enables you to get the task done.
1. Prologue

_Author's Note: Well, here we are. Finally. This is the way_ Codename: Kids Next Door_, in my opinion, should have ended. Read. Enjoy. Review._

_Disclaimer: I do not own _C:KND.

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**Kids Next Door Mission**

**Operation: LEADUH**

**L**acking  
**E**ventual  
**A**bility  
**D**ue  
**U**nder  
**H**ome-job

**Prologue**

So, it was pretty much a normal hour in the city. Chatting chimed throughout the small, comforting home of hundreds of people. It was a beautiful day. The sun shone strong rays against public shoulders. It was cloudless clear in the bird-filled skies above. A great day for the outdoor; walking, driving, shopping, whatever it was. A man in a tuxedo, walking home from work, holding his son's hand with the suitcase-free one. Two old ladies wearing flowered dresses and hats walked in the other direction of the sidewalk, deep in conversation. A woman in her 40s with sunglasses and a pretty blue dress walked in the same direction of the business man.

Yes, everything today was a happy kind of normal. Nothing to bother them the least.

Then, through the peacefulness of the sky, a sudden soaring of a medium-sized aircraft whizzed just passed the head of the tire shop. Right after that, about ten ice cream trucks came by on the small downtown road, way over the speed limit. People yelped and rushed to the far side of the sidewalk, afraid of getting struck. The two elderly women in the flowered dresses pressed their hats to their heads, preventing them from flying off.

A red and yellow roughly-designed ship rocketed through the thin air, low to the ground and hastening past the city's outlook.

_Kids Next Door: R.U.S.H.E.R._

_**R**__eady  
__**U**__tmost  
__**S**__peed  
__**H**__ysterically  
__**I**__nto  
__**E**__vading the  
__**R**__idiculous_

Inside this marvelous piece of work, five kids managed the controls. A bald boy wearing dark sunglasses, which somewhat looked better on him than without them, sat at a large red chair at the top of a small wooden platform. His eager motivation was in progress. "Status report, Numbuh 5?" he said, sternly.

A dark-skinned girl wearing a red hat turned around in her seat to face him. "We're headin' towards Donmill Street at a hundred an' eight miles an hour, Numbuh 1," she replied.

The bald boy, known as Numbuh 1, nodded. "Excellent. That should out-run those lousy ice cream trucks." He looked over the rim of his seat. "Numbuh 4, full observations of the opponents' progress."

Another boy, rather younger looking by height, with blonde hair covering his eyes somewhat, sat at a portion of the controllers, observing a screen. "Tha farthest one's 'alf a mile away from us, but tha closest ones are right on our tail," he said, his strong Australian accent well-avoiding a lack of clarity.

Outside the R.U.S.H.E.R., two trucks began to close up on the aircraft, gaining speed every second. Sure enough, both the tops of their trucks could touch the tail of the ship if it were just a foot lower. Two men in white uniforms pulled out their own large weapon. They raised the gun so it was aiming at the metal pipe of the mechanism holding the two steering tails together.

The massive aircraft suddenly shook, causing the kids inside struggle to keep their balance. "Numbuh 2, report!" the bald boy known as Numbuh 1 commanded.

A chubby boy wearing a pilot's cap sat at the driver's place. He looked into a small screen. "Two of them are climbing onto our ship, Numbuh 1."

Numbuh 1 rapidly turned his chair around. "Numbuh 3, activate the defense saw, _now_!"

"Okay!" a small, raven-haired girl in a large green sweater responded to him in a high-pitched voice. She forced her green sleeve-covered fist into a red button in front of her.

Back outside, the two men were climbing the ropes attached to the tail pipe as carefully as they could. To an abrupt movement, two compartments on each side of the ship opened up, and saws attached to metal arms came out of each one. The multiple blades started up, catching sight of two startled adults. They swung down at the ropes keeping them up. Both of them screeched as they fell to the pavement. Their trucks crashed into the trees on the side of the road.

"Yay!" the raven-haired girl, identified as Numbuh 3, cheered. "No more baddies!"

The blonde boy, acknowledged as Numbuh 4, leaned his head a little closer to the screen in front of him. "Guess again. We still got eight of 'em comin' up. One of 'em's right beside us now."

Through the window next to the dark-skinned girl, recognized as Numbuh 5, a man in the same white uniform was in an ice cream truck as well, driving close to the ship's left side. Numbuh 5 looked out the window and noticed this. "'Least we know the new status screen's workin'," she stated.

Numbuh 1 also looked out the window, observing the adult just as he raised the same hooking firearm through his open window. He anxiously looked in front of him in sight of a small street just ahead. "Numbuh 2; take us to the 401 South!"

"Roger that!" the boy wearing goggles, known as Numbuh 2, responded and steered the helm to the right.

The ship made a sharp turn down a small narrow street. The right wing of the craft blew off the sign that read '401 South'. Unfortunately for the adults, the man in the truck next to the ship was a bit troubled by the sudden movement that he never got the chance to turn with it. He tried to turn around, but ended up going through the forest with much struggle not to bash into a tree.

"We lost anotha' one," Numbuh 4 stated.

"Well done, Numbuh 2," Numbuh 1 said over Numbuh 3's solo applaud. Numbuh 2 swiftly raised his hand half-way without looking back, in honor of himself.

The R.U.S.H.E.R. continued zooming over the highway below them. People in cars looked up through their sun roofs to catch sight of this awkward looking bird. Cars beeped as many ice cream trucks cut them off continuously. Some people even stuck their heads out their windows and yelled at them, while the large aircraft just above their heads received shocked stares and gasps.

Numbuh 2 leaned in closer to the window in front of him. He quickly caught the scene of automobiles all stopping or going slowly. "Heads up, guys; traffic jam at twelve o'clock!"

Numbuh 3 chuckled as she looked at her digital watch decorated with multi-colored monkeys. "Silly, it's four-eighteen."

"Bring her up, but not _too_ far. There's too much altitude already," Numbuh 1 ordered.

Numbuh 2 pulled the rudder towards him, and the ship lifted, barely missing the milk exporting truck.

The men in ice cream trucks gasped and tried their best to avoid hitting the vehicles. Three of them ended up flying off the small bridge for exiting the highway. One of them turned on the street which led onto the highway, causing him to have to also avoid cars entering. Another one chose to come to a complete stop, flew out his front window by the sudden change of speed, and landed right into the back of a dirt bike bully with a brown frizzy beard and mustache and a bandana. The two remaining ones both hit a sign side by side telling people that 'Fred's Burger Barn' was at the next exit.

Numbuh 3, who watched through the back window, giggled. "One guy's getting strangled," she said through her laugh and observed one of the ice cream men grabbed at the neck by the dirt biker.

Just as the trees turned to flat planes of grass, Numbuh 2 steered the ship so they would fly above the vacant land instead of the jammed highway.

Numbuh 4 looked through his side window as they passed huddled, trapped cars beeping for people in front of them to move. "What's tha point of highways if ya can't even get anywhere? Ah mean, honestly, they could've just taken tha streets with a gazillion traffic lights an' still get there fasta'."

"Well, that's what happens when you become an adult; you lose brain cells," Numbuh 1 affirmed, grinning towards the Aussie. Numbuh 4 just shrugged and turned back to the screen. That's when he noticed.

"Numbuh 1, somethin's not right," he suddenly said.

"What is it?"

"Tha screen says that there's still one guy left, an' he's right on top of us."

Numbuh 3 suddenly felt something under her feet. She looked down through the small glass window on the floor next to her black and white running shoes. She saw an ice cream truck just below her, and a scrawny ice cream man with white hair and gray mustache was reaching through his open window for the metal bar holding the R.U.S.H.E.R's wheels in place. She raised an eyebrow. "Hm, you sure Numbuh 4? 'Cause I see someone _under_ us," she stated, giggling at her choice of words.

The others, however, turned to her with a look of stun, and then looked down at the window she was staring through. From how high Numbuh 1 was sitting, he saw the man successfully attaching his working truck to the two bars, and climbing up himself.

"Numbuh 2, lower the ship," he said to the pilot. "That ought to work."

Numbuh 2 nodded, then slowly pushed the helm in, and the ship began to go lower. The truck's wheels began to struggle to keep solid. In fact, it began to dig into the ground. The man on the bar quickly glanced down, then back up to the floor window of the aircraft. He saw a small girl in green waving at him with a grin.

She looked down at the man looking at her and laughing nervously at the same time, shyly waving back. "Yuck," she shuddered. "That guy should seriously try some moisturizer."

"Numbuh 5, initiate the Electric Firearm," Numbuh 1 instructed.

Numbuh 5 pushed a light blue button, and then placed her hand over a lever. "E.L. Firearm, operatin'," she affirmed just as she pulled the lever.

From the outside, the ice cream man was pulling out a little something that looked like a pen when, all of a sudden, two weapons popped out of two compartments. They aimed at him and began to glow blue and white. The man looked at the glass window and whimpered. Electricity shot at him and he fell to the grass grounds. The electic coils then shot at the truck still attached to the machine, causing it to explode and also get left behind.

Numbuh 3 and 4 both watched this happen through the window and laughed.

"Yay!" Numbuh 3 shrieked, "_Now_ no more baddies!"

"That's right, Numbuh 3. No more baddies," Numbuh 1 agreed, grinning ahead, then frowned awkwardly when he realized the term he'd used describing the ice cream men. He then turned to the chubby pilot. "Numbuh 2, set course for home." He tilted back in his chair, leaning his head on his raised hands and crossed his leg over the other.

The R.U.S.H.E.R. was steered left and pretty soon, the clearest vision ahead was a large Treehouse.

…**Transmission Interrupted…**

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The reward of a job well done is to have done it.


	2. Sunset's Paradise

…**Continuing Transmission…**

A small white house with red linings came into view of this lovely, sunny day. Vivid green grass glazed the lands surrounding them. Trees stood straight in the background of the house, aiding it in the giving its natural view. A little, silver mailbox set sturdily at front of the home, ready for the mailman to come along. Through the red roof, shielding the inner possessions from the heat of the sun's strong rays shining upon it, grew the bark of a tree. Branches, leaves, everything an ordinary tree would produce were on it. But what made it so remarkable were the extras. There were platforms, metal pieces, stairs, the front part of a plane, pipes, laser, even half of a boat added onto the tree. In red paint, numbers were varnished on wooden boards. Only the numbers _2_, _4_, and _5_ were visible from where the treehouse faced the street. But, as famously known to many fans or to anybody who understands basic math, there were as well a _1_ and _3_ somewhere else on boards. On a large rectangular-shaped part of wood on the top, were yellow-printed letters that read, 'KND'.

Inside of one of the rooms, two girls sat. The girl in the over-sized green sweater, or Numbuh 3, as she was commonly referred to as, sat on the wooden base in front of the screen, which showed a motion picture of multicolored monkeys dancing and hopping around. On another couch, Numbuh 5, the dark-skinned girl with the red hat and braided hair, sat with a magazine in her hands, eyes glued to the words and pictures completing the girls' floppy book.

Just as it seemed boy-free peace had come to Numbuh 3 and 5's moment, the sliding doors made of steel opened. Two kids walked out of the small elevator and into the room.

"So, tell me again why the fuel level was low," the bald boy with dark shades, known as Numbuh 1, stated, more in a questioning tone then a demanding one.

Numbuh 2, the round boy wearing a pilot's cap and goggles, gave him a nervous look. "Um, I forgot to fill the…fuel tanks." He spoke cautiously.

Numbuh 1 nodded. "Uh huh. And that's why the next time you're out for a reload of Yipper cards, I'll be sure to ask you if you remembered to fill them up. But other than that, I want you to remember that it's _your_ responsibility to complete this _simple_ chore."

"Hey, it was the new addition! I'm always the first one to get them, and you know it," Numbuh 2 argued.

The leader sighed. "I think you made that clear enough for the past few years. But if this _mishap_ happens again, then I may have to disable you from delivering our things from those Comic Conventions and hand the job over to Numbuh 4 _alone_."

Just then, the blonde, shorter boy, well-known as Numbuh 4, walked into the room wearing an orange t-shirt, navy blue shorts and black cleats with white socks. A soccer ball was tucked under his arm. "Ah'll see _you_ guys lata'. Ah'm outside if ya need me."

"Hold on a second, Numbuh 4," Numbuh 1 affirmed swiftly. He turned his attention to the Aussie, giving Numbuh 2 a chance to promptly walk away and flop down on the couch next to Numbuh 3. Numbuh 1 didn't discern it. "Aren't you forgetting something?"

"Oh, yeah," the Tough Guy mumbled, reaching into his short's pocket and fumbled through it. He pulled out a key chain with a set of keys and a little figure of a soccer ball hanging off of it. "Can't play through jinglin'."

Numbuh 1 rolled his eyes. "I'm talking about the mission file report," he corrected, stubbornly. "You're supposed to drop it off through the Kids Next Door Super Secret Mail Drop." He folded his arms over his chest. "Remember?"

"Yeah, yeah," he repeated while placing the soccer ball on the ground. "Ah'm on it. Why'd ya put me in charge've that cruddy job?"

"'Cause ya can't do anythin' else right," Numbuh 5 retorted all of a sudden.

The Aussie huffed, "Ah can play soccer. And Ah'll prove it-"

"_After_ you deliver that report," Numbuh 1 intentionally finished for him.

Numbuh 4 grumbled, "But it's on tha billionth floor! It's too far!"

"Well then, you better get moving," the bald boy advised, elevating his brow.

The blondest of them all groaned yet again before heading in the direction of the small elevator doors Numbuhs 1 and 2 recently exited. "Stupid, cruddy mission reports always gettin' in tha way…" he muttered to himself as he entered the tiny room that led to different levels of the massive treehouse. He pushed a button, and the doors closed.

Numbuh 2 glanced over at Numbuh 5. "How long do you think it'll take him to realize that he forgot the report?" He stuffed a potato chip into his mouth and chewed.

Just then, the four operatives in the current room heard a faded shriek of foremost irritation all the way from somewhere half-way up the treehouse.

She laughed along with the others, "Not too long."

* * *

A blonde ten-year-old girl sat at a desk made of wood, hands folded in front of her. A solemn, serious expression with inward-tilted eyebrows cast over her face. She gazed ahead of her with sullen eyes. "So, you really believe you're Kids Next Door material, do you?" she inquired.

A shadowed figure stood in front of her, unseen by the indistinct side of the room. All that could be observed was the figure of a kid. "Yes, Numbuh 362. I do," he replied to her in a low, male voice.

The girl whom was referred to as Numbuh 362 slowly closed her eyes and tilted her head in. "Well, Numbuh 60 tells me that you have exceeded the levels at Kids Next Door Arctic Base." She looked back up at him. "What would you best describe you're achievements as?"

"I have no opinion on my work, Miss," the figure replied. "I have fear of judging myself too fine when I may have done a job not as well."

She looked at him, her eyebrows naturally returning to their regular position. "I'm pleased with your attitude, but you'll have to show me some proof that you are valuable enough for the Kids Next Door." The girl closed the folder with care. "A kid can't always depend on a few sheets of paper, you know."

Just as she spoke those last words, three dark, gun-shaped, metal figures popped out of the wall rapidly, and each of them shot rapidly and continuously at him. The kid quickly dodged the first two, and then landed in time to pull out a small mirror. He held it at where the green glow was headed, and the glow bounced against the reflecting glass. The third laser gun, which shot incessantly around his half of the room, obtained its own laser line, and swiftly turned into useless, burnt plastic.

The other two lasers continued shooting wildly through the room, causing small holes all over the walls, floor and ceiling. The boy, still dodging the green glowing shots, speedily turned the mirror towards another close laser just as it was a few feet away from him. The laser bullet hit the glass and bounced back towards its original location, destroying the second laser gun. The kid leaped a somersault to avoid three past-shot green glowing bullets. As he was in the air, he quickly threw his small mirror at the first and most powerful gun. The mirror wouldn't stop its rapid approach, even by all the laser-lines hitting it. Nonstop green, glowing bullets hit the large laser gun, until it exploded with a small bang. Everything was quiet but the small well-cracked mirror bounced its light, dinging way to the floor.

The still shadowed kid just kept his unseen eyes on Numbuh 362, who just nodded her head at him, smiling.

"It looks like you've proved me wrong," she said, cleanly.

He grinned back.

* * *

Back in the small hometown of those five popular members, that same short blonde boy in orange ran through grassy fields, a black and white soccer ball at his feet. The sun was at a setting point, but he didn't seem to care. In fact, he was having a great time with himself that he didn't even bother noticing. His cleat-covered feet raced through the long, green grass as he kept the ball in between his feet.

"Beetles goes to tha left…" he announced to himself. He steered the ball to the left side of the white spray-outlined field. "He then goes to tha right…" He steered the ball to the right. "His foot goes back!" He raised his foot behind him, preparing to kick the ball. "He shoots!" His foot booted the ball hard towards the net in front of him. The ball shot forward with incredible speed and flew into the nets stitched to stop the ball from going too far. "He _scores_!" he screeched loudly. "Wallabee Beetles wins tha game for tha Beetle Boys! An' tha crowd… goes… wild!"

It was only when he finished screaming his victory announcement that he heard solo cheering and clapping from behind him. He quickly turned around, only to come face to face with that familiar figure.

He blushed with embarrassment, instantly recalling his awkward yelling. "Eh…Numbuh 3, what are ya doin' here?"

The raven-haired girl giggled, "To cheer you on for the big game."

Numbuh 4 looked back at the ball, resting at the corner of the net. He glanced back at her with a more serious look. "A guy can dream," he muttered. He ran into the net and retrieved the ball.

Numbuh 3 walked onto the field. "You could probably pass as a champ soccer mimic," she affirmed, laughing afterwards.

The Aussie rolled the ball at her and maintained his position in front of the net. "C'mon, let's see ya shoot at me."

Numbuh 3 stopped the ball with her foot, yet kept her eyes on him. "I don't know, Numbuh 4. I mean, I don't want you to get embarrassed again."

"Yeah, right. Hilarious. Now c'mon, show me what ya got." He quickly stretched the bottom his t-shirt down so it covered the upper half of his shorts.

"Okay!" she exclaimed with glee before kicked the ball as hard as she could with another standard laugh.

Numbuh 4 dived straight up in the air as high as he could. But the ball, a little higher than his reach, sailed an inch above his hands. He could even feel the rush of air at his finger tips. The ball sank into the net behind him.

"She _scores_! Kuki Sanban wins the game for the Sanban Girls! And the crowd… goes-"

"All right, Ah get tha message," Numbuh 4 mumbled, listening with concealed delight to the girl's repeated laughter.

* * *

Inside the Treehouse, located not too far away from the soccer field, life wasn't as alive. Numbuh 2 was simply eating his potato chips alone watching a car race on the television. Numbuh 1 was on the other side of the room, working at very massive control panel. Everything was quiet, except the sound from the low-volume television, Numbuh 2's chips crunching between his teeth, and Numbuh 1's fingers tapping on the keys.

Through the midst of near discomfiture between the two of them, Numbuh 1 turned his whirling stool to face his friend. "Hey, Numbuh 2, I need to get a few documentations from my room. Can you keep this functional until I get back?"

Numbuh 2 tossed his potato chip bag onto the table and stood up, obviously exaggerating his laziness. "All right, but it'll cost you a buck," he said, holding out his palm with a smirk.

He looked at him with an angled grin reading, '_You can't be serious._'

"No free-bees," Numbuh 2 replied.

"Make an exception, will you?" Numbuh 1 didn't wait for a joking response. He strolled out.

As his feet took him through the passage, Numbuh 1 scanned the walls down musingly. For some reason, he once decided in the past that the Treehouse corridors were large, imaginary museums on their memories. Whether they were happy, sad, funny, serious, scary, or tiring moments, they all appeared as photographs in his mind's eye. Only _he_ could see the pictures. Through his perspective, that was the power that came with being a kid.

Within moments he'd reached his bedroom door, known to be his own because of the giant number '1' painted on the outside. He twisted the handle and pushed it open. It was not an average room, his room. It was more of a double-sized master bedroom. Except it wasn't much of a bedroom either. It was more like…a very big office. Papers were all over a small desk at the side of the room. A small bed with baby blue sheets appeared somewhere in the middle; not too far from it were a bunch of monitors and buttons. I didn't look like a child's bedroom. More like the room of an-

But anyway, Numbuh 1 entered his bedroom and seized a very thick, beige folder that sat upon an even smaller desk right beside his door. Making sure that the contents within the folder were the correct ones, doing so by flipping through it roughly, he was ensured by his eyes that they were. He threw a glance upwards, in his bedroom, towards everything. Anything. Anything that reminded him of all his achievements. He did that almost every time he left his room with an optimistic attitude.

Finally, he turned around and shut the door behind him, causing darkness to cast over the room.

* * *

Numbuh 5 sat on a small soft bench right next to her window, staring out into the bright orange and pink skies ahead. She had an awkward admiration for scenes like this. It just made life seem worth living; as a kid, a teenager, an adult; anytime of her life. Of course, as a member of the Kids Next Door, she preferred the kid side. Just the way the sunlight reflected against windows of the houses below, or against the quiet cars driving by beneath her. Even the trees in the distance had a glow of light on them.

The red-capped girl looked down at the two soccer fields not too far away from the treehouse. Numbuhs 3 kicked a ball at Numbuh 4, who stood in front of the net. The ball whizzed past Numbuh 4 as he did a dive to the side she kicked to. It successfully entered the net, causing cheers of joy to escape Numbuh 3's energetic lungs.

Numbuh 5 heard the door creak open.

She turned around quickly, seeing Numbuh 1's bald head pop through the small space between the door and the wall. "Numbuh 5?" he whispered through the silence. "May I come in?"

Her lips formed a small smile and she patted a spot for him on the small bench.

He walked in, still having a hold of the files for the defense grid. He watched as his very own hands placed the sheets onto a round table beside her door. He'd have to remember to pick them up on his way out.

The leader slowly made his way over and took a seat on the unoccupied space on the soft seating surface. Numbuh 5 didn't look at him, and so he didn't look at her. Instead, he looked at where she was looking. She was watching Numbuhs 3 and 4 down at the soccer fields. Numbuh 3 kicked it, and Numbuh 4 headed it back to her, over her head.

He smiled. "Out of all the two human beings I've seen together in my life, they have got to be a pair of my favorites."

Finally, she turned her gaze to him, slightly taken aback by the befuddling statement. But he continued to stare out at the two good friends playing and laughing together. The dim orange lights of the skies seemed to give a glint to Numbuh 1's sunglasses. She didn't reply; just gazed admirably along with him.

He saw the sun peeking from behind the trees in the distance. "Nice view you have here."

She grinned at the dark pink lining of the clouds. "Thanks."

"Do you stare out like this everyday?" he asked her, now looking at her.

She shrugged. "'Depends what season. In the fall an' winter, th' sun sets earlier, so, usually, Numbuh 5's stuck wit' homework instead 'a watchin' it go down."

"Is it always this nice in the spring?" he inquired once more.

"Yeah, but not as nice as early summer," she added. She smiled at him. "Y' should see it then."

Numbuh 1 gazed out again, mainly at the soccer-playing operatives. A sudden confusing question ran through is mind for a moment. It just barely evaded his grasp, which frustrated him.

Numbuh 5 turned her whole body around to face him, wordlessly saying that the admiration of nature was now a thing of the past. "So, did ya need anythin'?"

"Hm?" It took him a moment to take his eyes off the scene of joy, and put together the reality that was beside him. "Oh, I was just…" He pretended to search his mind for a reason to come to her room, when, really, he knew nothing would come. "Stupid me; I completely forgot."

She half-smiled. "It happens."

He chuckled. "Well, I guess it doesn't matter," he uttered. "I'll be sure to tell you when it comes back to me."

"Sure thin', boss."

He stood up. "Good night." His feet took him away, slowly nearing the exit.

"Hey, Numbuh 1?"

He turned back to her, in front of the doorway.

"Y'okay?"

"Of course. How come?"

Numbuh 1 only received a shrug of uncertainty from her. "Just askin'."

He offered her a quick and comforting grin before leaving her alone in her room.

Numbuh 5 continued to stare towards the now-empty doorway, a mix of puzzlement and amusement expressed on her face.

Only a couple of seconds passed before Numbuh 1 hesitantly reentered the room, laughing nervously. "Forgot my…files." As quickly as he could without fumbling, he picked up the folder from the round table and left, waving his hand to her before rushing out of her view.

She laughed after him, and then she turned around to enviously gaze at Numbuhs 3 and 4 again. They had gathered up and were now headed towards the Treehouse. The sun was now completely hidden, and the skies began to turn a dark, pale shade of blue. She sighed and crossed her arms on the ledge of her open window, resting her chin on her wrist.

Things were changing. She could feel it. And she didn't even know how right she was.

**…Transmission Interrupted…**

* * *

_I still find each day too short for all the thoughts I want to think, all the walks I want to take, all the books I want to read, and all the friends I want to see._


	3. New Operative

…**Continuing Transmission…**

The best part about his bedroom was that he always got the sunrise. Sure, they weren't as nice as sunsets. But it actually felt nice to wake up with a fresh feeling of sunlight upon his face. It was like the opposite feeling of a fresh breeze on his pale white skin, but at the same time, the exact same feeling.

Yeah, so the beach did the same thing for him; but that's just wasting valuable time when he could be fighting evil adults. Although his teammates seemed to have a different idea of fun in some cases, they all still enjoyed battling uptight adults together. Whether it was as gruesome Father or as ridiculous as the Toilenator, the times they'd spend fighting villains were priceless.

Numbuh 1 slowly pushed himself up in bed, shielding his eyes from the sunlight. _Wow, it's so bright today,_ he thought as he tossed the covers off of him. He felt a liquor warm sensation on the back of his neck. Smothering his finger tips through it, he felt the sticky liquid running slowly down his back. Good grief, it was hot. The covers mustn't have helped very much.

He threw his feet over the side of the bed. A new day, and, hopefully, a new mission. He stood up, stretched his arms, and walked to the window. His hands carefully removed the lock and chucked up the glass pane. A breeze; just what he needed. Adults in cars were already beginning to drive to work. A few kids, about six or so, were skipping rope, and there were another couple of them drawing on the pavement with colored chalk.

Only then did it occur to him. _What time is it?_ He glanced back at his digital clock on the counter. _Ten twenty-nine? Aw crud, I'm late!_ He hurried to get dressed.

* * *

"What's takin' 'im so long?" Numbuh 5 asked to no one in particular. She glanced at her watch. It was Sunday, but Numbuh 1 never slept in _this_ late. _They_ didn't even sleep in this late. Well, maybe a few times Numbuh 2 did. But that was besides the point.

Numbuh 3 took a bite out of her Rice Krispies Square from her spot on the long orange couch next to Numbuh 4. "Yeah," she said through her full mouth. It went down in one big gulp. "He's always the first one up." She took another bite.

Numbuh 2 stuffed a chunk of syrupy waffle into his mouth, and some of the syrup dripped down from the corner of his lips. "Mayfe he fo' ot fe meefin'," he tried to say through a full mouth of his own.

"What?" Numbuh 4 inquired for a correction for his understanding.

Numbuh 2 swallowed the chunk as Numbuh 3 did and repeated, "I said maybe he forgot the meeting."

"He can't. He never forgets," Numbuh 5 insisted. "Besides, even if he did, he should be up by now."

"What are you guys sitting around for?" Everyone turned around to see Numbuh 1 standing in the middle of the room. "We've got a consultation in five minutes. Everybody meet me in the briefing room." He left without waiting for a response. The group stared at each other awkwardly. After a moment, they all shrugged and rushed off to the briefing room after their leader. Numbuh 2 stayed behind for the final bite of his waffle before running after them.

* * *

"All right, Numbuh 362 informed me that you were given the choice of your Sector…"

The boy nodded his head yes.

"And have you come to any conclusions so far?"

He shook his head no.

A red-headed freckled girl stood before him, her thick curls covering one side of her face. He expression seemed livid; eyebrows tilted in and lips grim. As much as she found an odd hate for boys, she just kept her look of abhorrence on the paper in her hands. "Well, I'll review the Sectors available." She held on to a strong Irish voice. "Let's see… there's Sector L, Sector R, Sector QT, Sect-"

"I don't mean to interrupt, Numbuh 86," the boy said, suddenly. "But does there so happen to be any Sectors in Pennsylvania? I need a place to stay so I am near my home."

The red-headed girl, popularly known as Numbuh 86, nodded her head at this as she scanned the list. "Um… Yes. Sectors V and PE are open for the time being."

He smiled. "Might I try Sector V, if you don't mind?" he stated, at last.

She nodded.

* * *

Inside the Treehouse, there was another large room. This one was much different than the others. Computers and gadgets stood all around it, leaning against the wall, or wired to the ceiling. At the far back of the room was a stage, with yellow letters printed with paint 'KND' on the wall. The stage remained empty at the moment. In front of the stage was a large tire inside a small circular stand, with three kids settled in it; Numbuhs 3, 4 and 5.

Numbuh 2 finally sped in and hopped into his spot between Numbuhs 3 and 4. Numbuh 4 was jolted up a little bit, thanks to the supple pillow, and then landed in the same spot.

On the stage, a small compartment went open in the floor, and a stand popped out, along with the Sector V leader.

Numbuh 1 cleared his throat as he stared into the eyes of each of his teammates. "Fellow operatives, yesterday we received a telegram that a new kid around the age of eleven would be joining the Kids Next Door. An offer was sent to us by Numbuh 65.3 to be open for a surpassing training session, and to keep our Treehouse open for another operative."

Nobody said a word for a moment; that is until Numbuh 2 pitched in. "All right," he said, impatiently.

The leader just stared down at him and spoke again. "The point _is_, Numbuh 2, that incase they choose our Sector, then we have to keep our greeting attitude open and our bad manners out of the way. Is that understood?"

The four kids merely muttered their accord.

Numbuh 1 looked back down at the papers settled in front of him. "Well, in addition, it has been clarified that his or her talents have exceeded a great amount."

The Aussie suddenly huffed loudly. "Yeah right. They always say that when someone impresses Mister Low Standard down at Arctic Base."

Numbuh 1 tilted his eyebrows. "Better than _ex_-Numbuh 274," he said, slowly and effectively.

They all gasped, Numbuh 4 included.

"I thought so." Numbuh 1 adjusted his sunglasses.

All of a sudden, a loud siren rang throughout the entire room. Numbuhs 2 through 5 jumped up from their spots and ran to another room behind their leader.

Inside the 'Control Room', there was a very large screen in front of a bunch of controllers; levers, buttons, tiny screens, etcetera. Even on the walls around it there were buttons to be pressed, and levers to be pulled, and screens to be scanned.

Numbuh 1 pressed a button, making the siren stop screeching and the red light stop flashing. A large boy wearing glasses over his eyes and braces on his buck teeth popped up on the big screen. Instantly discerning that he was visible to the team, cleared his throat roughly. "Calling Kids Next Door Sector V; is everybody present?"

"Affirmative," Numbuh 1 replied, standing in front of the group. "Numbuhs 1 through 5 of Sector V at your service."

"What's tha cruddy mission?" Numbuh 4 demanded.

The large boy fixed his glasses to match his comfort. "Well, it has come to my attention that the latest skillful operative that has come to the Kids Next Door has specified _your_ Treehouse for a week's stopover. While having his stay, he will adapt to the Kids Next Door Field Operative lifestyle, which will aid him in the conclusion of his operative arrangement." He spoke very quickly.

The five members in Sector V just stared back for a moment.

Numbuh 2 broke the silence between the group and the boy on the screen. "Come again…?"

He sighed. "He'll be staying at your Treehouse for a week, which will help him in his decision of whether he wants to become a Field Operative or not. So if-"

"_Hold_ it! Hold on, Numbuh 65.3!" Numbuh 4 declared rapidly. "You're sayin' that if he likes us, then he'll join our Secta'?"

The chubby boy, known as Numbuh 65.3, flipped a page on his clipboard. "No, Numbuh 4. Not positively. It will be up to both him and Numbuh 362's clarification, plus, as per tradition, the Code Module will be deciding for him, anyway. But that's not the main concern right now. He's still a Cadet, and he'll be going through training during his stay with your Sector."

Numbuh 4 opened his mouth to ask another question, but Numbuh 65.3 didn't allow him. "Numbuh 86 will be arriving at your treehouse with the new operative shortly. I suggest you get ready."

The screen turned black, and letters appeared in the following order: _END TRANSMISION_.

Numbuh 1 turned to face his teammates. "Well team, let's get a move on."

* * *

Outside the Treehouse, on the front lawn, the five kids were waiting for their expected company to arrive. Numbuhs 2, 3, 4, and 5 stood in a straight row as Numbuh 1 paced back and forth in front of them, giving them final instructions.

"Now remember; we want to make this new Kid Next Door feel welcome. We were the primary sector chosen, and we want to give the Kids Next Door a good first impression on this guy. Do I make myself clear?"

"We can see right through ya," Numbuh 5 replied, and the others nodded in agreement.

"Good."

A whizzing noise sounded above their heads as their features were darkened by the overcast shadow created by the ship flying over them. All their gazes were cast towards the ship, having to shield their eyes when the rapid-moving propellers created a cloud of dust as it landed. When the dust settled, the team could make out a red-headed girl stepping out of the ship, followed by a boy. The girl, Numbuh 86, looked at the team.

"Kids Next Door, Sector V, I would like to introduce you to Mark Ashlock."

Numbuhs 1 through 5, awed, scanned the boy. He was tall, with slightly swayed black hair covering his forehead and half of his ears. His eyes were fairly large and calm, followed with an up-side down 'u' shaped nose. He had a slight tan of skin. Presently, he wore a black t-shirt and faded jeans, with expensive looking running shoes. He had a silver spud in his right ear. He was in very good shape, even for an eleven year-old.

"Well then," Numbuh 86 said, noting the instant undeniable connection both sides were experiencing while she became a sudden outcast. "I'll leave you to get to know each other. I'll be right back with the instructions." She went back inside the ship.

Mark grinned at the team's gazes. "Hi." His voice was deep, yet strong.

Numbuh 4 was first to reply. "Whoa…" Well, sort of.

Numbuh 1 cleared his throat for the third time that day. "Hello, Mark. I am Numbuh 1; leader of the Kids Next Door, Sector V." He held out his hand. "Good to finally make your acquaintance. We've heard so much about you."

Mark took the bald boy's hand boldly. "It's so great to meet you, Numbuh 1," he responded. "Wow; leader. That must be an honor."

"It certainly is," Numbuh 1 said, forming a proud smile on his thin lips.

The new boy looked over the leader's shoulder. Numbuh 1 noticed this and quickly spoke. "Oh, yes. This is my team." He led Mark over to Numbuh 2 in the line. "This is Hoagie P. Gilligan a.k.a. Numbuh 2. He's our 2x4 technology officer."

"Hey, Mark. Really cool earring," Numbuh 2 said coolly as he and Mark shook hands.

"Thanks," Mark said with a different smile.

Numbuh 3 giggled as she held out her hand for a shake. "I'm Kuki; Kuki Sanban. But my friends call me Numbuh 3."

The tall boy took her hand, but instead of a shake, he gave her a simple kiss on the back of her hand. "Very pleased to meet you."

"Numbuh 4 or Wally Beetles," the shorter kid stated. "Call me Numbuh 4."

"I'll remember that," Mark said as he shook hands with him. Numbuh 4's eyes stayed on the silver spud earring in his earlobe.

He moved over to Numbuh 5.

The capped girl held out her hand for a handshake. "Abby Lincoln, or Numbuh 5. Nice ta meet ya."

Just as Mark did to Numbuh 3, instead of a shake, he brought up her hand for a gentle peck of his lips. But as an alternative, he kept his eyes on her. "A pleasure to meet you, Numbuh 5." He stood up straight, and Numbuh 5 watched him as he did so. Their eyes locked for about a second or two.

Quickly, Numbuh 1 roughly cleared his throat once again. "Well, Mark, why doesn't Numbuh 4 show you around the Treehouse, while we wait for Numbuh 86's instructions?"

The Cadet nodded agreeably. "That'd be great."

Numbuh 4 rushed to his side. "Oh yeah; wait 'til ya see _my_ room! Ya do hand-ta-hand combat?"

"Do I?" Mark repeated, sounding shocked of the inquiry. "As if that needs to be asked."

Numbuh 4 plainly became more energized at this, despite the blatancy he knew would follow the question. "All right! You against me."

"You're on."

Numbuh 4 pulled the new kid inside the Treehouse, passing the others carelessly.

Numbuh 1 shook his head with good reason. It wasn't everyday that Numbuh 4 met somebody and become fond of them within minutes. What confirmed the unusualness was the reaction Mark had received when being introduced to his teammates. Mark didn't relate to Numbuh 4 in any social way. Even so, Numbuh 1 supposed that the boy's overall appearance did the trick. He wasn't completely unfortunate looking. In fact, he looked as if he were already in the KND for years now.

Numbuh 3 giggled flirtatiously.

"I like him. He's cute." She said it so lightheartedly; he wondered how she could maintain such a carefree attitude about everything.

Numbuh 1 turned to face his operatives. "All right, you guys. I…guess we'll be leaving Mark in Numbuh 4's care for a while."

"I was thinking vise versa," Numbuh 5 clarified.

Numbuh 86 returned from the ship with a clipboard. "Okay, Kids Next Door. Let me go over the guidelines of actually having _manners_," she said, harshly, in that strong Irish accent of hers.

The team didn't reply.

She looked around. "Where's Mark?"

"He's with Numbuh 4," Numbuh 2 replied and poked his thumb over his shoulder towards the Treehouse behind him.

The girl sighed with a roll of her eyes. "Always the stupid one." She raised the papers so she could see. "Anyway, Numbuh 1, I need you to permit Mark to join your team during their individual assigned tasks. This includes Numbuh 2 while working on 2x4 technology weapons, Numbuh 3 with…whatever she does all day, Numbuh 4 during hand-to-hand combat training, and Numbuh 5 stealth practices.

"He will have to get used to what job of the Sector he enjoys and is good at, then it will be his decision whether he'd prefer another Sector or yours. He _is_ still a Cadet, so it is your duty to bring it up a notch." She looked at the leader of Sector V. "Is that clear?"

Numbuh 1 nodded. "Yes, Numbuh 86. It's clear."

"Good." She closed the file, just like that. Without any second glances, she went back into the ship. "Oh, and Numbuh 1." She turned around. "Don't blow it."

The doors slammed shut and the ship flew off.

**…Transmission Interrupted…**

**

* * *

**_  
We all have big changes in our lives that are more or less a second chance._


	4. Mark Ashlock

…**Continuing Transmission…**

Numbuh 4 ducked another punch sent by the kid in front of him. His navy boxers with red stitching at the waistband were stained with fresh perspiration. Ashlock's orangey-yellow shorts were in a similar state. Other than the appearance of evident training, it was a pretty fair battle. No weapons, no protective gear, and no rules.

Mark sent his fist at his opponent's stomach, and Numbuh 4, being the gifted pugilist he was, easily moved away in a 70s-style dance slide, of which his waist led the way of dragging his body to the side.

Mark grinned. "Smooth," he murmured as he dodged Numbuh 4's swift floor-kick.

Numbuh 4 jumped to his feet, feeling the sensation of that sticky warm liquid all over him. It felt so good. An accomplishment. His wheezing gasps purely satisfied him. "You're not so bad yourself."

The Italian swiftly spun around with his arm in front of him, aiming to knock the Aussie at the side of the head with his arm. However, Numbuh 4 was able to duck it within millimeters.

"Ya train?" he asked though tough breaths, deciding to throw his own punch at Mark's head.

Mark held him off with the palm of his hand, now having a direct clutch of his fist. "Yeah, four years now." He threw Numbuh 4's fist to the side, allowing him to reclaim it. "My brother used to train me. He was pretty good too."

Unexpectedly, in the blink of an eye, Mark intentionally collapsed to the floor and swung his leg, like he was break-dancing around at Numbuh 4's ankles. The blonde boy yelped before dropping to the hollow white floors, in defeat. Everything was abruptly out of fighting mode – quiet, except for the echoing sound of Mark's and Numbuh 4's loud gulps of air.

Mark came back to his feet. "You know…for a guy like you…" he started through mouthfuls of air, fists rested on each side of his sweaty hips. "You're not so bad." He smoothed his soaked bangs from his face and gelled it back with the help of the warm, sticky moist liquid dripping from his hair. He was smiling humorously.

Numbuh 4, just as worn out as his challenger, got to his own feet. "Yeah. You too," he wheezed.

Just at that time, that same Japanese girl known as Numbuh 3 walked through the doorway. Tucked under her right arm was a small stuffed purple monkey with a tiny flat rainbow piece sticking out of its head. She tilted her head back to stare up at the top of the large wrestling rink above her, like she was sitting in the very front row of the movie theater. "Guys!" she yelled up to the two fatigued boys. "Snack time!"

The blonde shorter boy peered over the thick ropes outlining the wrestling rink. He saw the figure of his female comrade standing below him. "All right, we'll be there," he hollered in response. Mark appeared beside him with a couple of white and red striped towels. He handed one to his fighting partner, and he took it with much gratitude.

"Okay! Oh, and Numbuh 1 says we're gonna all talk over snack! So tell Mark to bring those files Numbuh 86 gave him!"

"I will," Mark shouted down to her, peeking over the ropes as well.

Numbuh 3, being the untroubled girl she was, grinned happily at this and skipped off. The purple monkey remained squeezed underneath her arm. She began to hum a blissful melody, the tune fading as she pranced off farther and farther into the hallway.

Mark turned to Numbuh 4 with a small grin. "What's say we hit the showers," he suggested, wiping away the droplets of sweat from his forehead with the towel.

Numbuh 4 grinned in return for no reason. He was completely shocked with himself, but he didn't trouble himself with considering why.

* * *

It had taken about fifteen minutes to pull Numbuh 3 away from her lunch with Mr. and Mrs. Wiggleston and introduce her to some real food, but eventually, all six of them were settled at the wide, rectangular-shaped table in the kitchen. Numbuh 1 sat at one end of the table, while Mark sat at the other end. On one side were Numbuhs 2 and 5; Numbuh 2 closer to Numbuh 1, and Numbuh 5 closer to Mark. On the other side were Numbuhs 3 and 4; Numbuh 3 closer to Numbuh 1, and Numbuh 4 closer to Mark.

Everyone was just about ready to dig in to the food in front of them (Numbuh 2's fingers were twitching near the plate of fries) when Numbuh 1 cleared his throat, for the fifth time that day, to get the group's attention.

"Mark, all of us would like to welcome you to our Treehouse."

Numbuh 3 tried to instigate applause by clapping her hands together, only to receive an awkward stare from the hungry Numbuh 4 next to her.

"Numbuh 86 told me to go over some of our instructions while you are here, and I intend to finish that before we begin."

"Can't ya do it on your own time?" Numbuh 4 demanded, staring directly at the cheese fries piled on a silver platter, the steam still temptingly rising off of it. "Tha cheese is goin' ta get cold!"

Numbuh 2 nodded.

Mark laughed and gave a small shrug. "Go ahead and dig in. I don't see what the problem is."

The blonde boy didn't wait a second longer. Pretty soon, he was all over the cheese fries. Effortlessly persuading his fellow operatives, they also took something for themselves.

Numbuh 1 just gave a stern look. "All right, then. We'll wait until later." _Push-over._

Mark smiled just before he placed a nacho between his teeth.

* * *

"Now then, let's get on with this," Numbuh 1 informed, standing at the podium in the briefing room. Again, as they were earlier that day, Numbuhs 2 through 5 sat around the giant tire resting in a large hole in the floor. Except now, Mark Ashlock was in the middle. _Right_ in the middle. Right between Numbuhs 4 and 5. "All right, Mark, let me introduce you to what the Kids Next Door has planned for you. Surely you've seen most of the Treehouse now. Correct?"

Mark just nodded. Then he added, "And it's amazing. Did you all build it, or was it always here?"

"We built it together," Numbuh 2 confirmed before quickly adding, "but I designed it."

"Cool. Really nice work."

Numbuh 2 smiled proudly.

"As I was saying, we've received documents from Kids Next Door Moon base, reporting that you have exceeded in the stimulation at KND Arctic Base. They read that you surpassed all levels of any KND operative, even former operative Chad a.k.a. _former_ Numbuh 274." He shuffled a stack of paper and straightened them neatly. "Also, in the instructions given to us directly, they say that you as a training operative must spend a week or so fighting adults with our team until you understand the full meaning of what being a KND operative is really about."

Suddenly, his stern expression turned faintly tense. "But, if it's not much too wonder about, may I ask _why_ you chose Sector V? Not that you are uncalled for, of course. For such a succeeding operative, there must be a reason why you chose our Sector."

"Well, it's kind of difficult, really," Mark uttered in a low tone. "If I was going to stay anywhere, I needed to be close enough to home. Just incase. Plus…well, this was my brother's Sector. He was an important part of my life."

Numbuh 1's face fell to the floor. He didn't mean to cause him any grief. He coughed, suggesting the pressure giving in on him. "Well, anyway, we were to schedule specific timings of blending you with one of our operatives while they are at work. Numbuh 86 tells me you do not have a specific profession in the KND you'd rather have."

Mark shrugged. "Not that there is none. I just don't mind on what job I get confirmed into. It won't matter all that much to me."

"I'm telling you. He's cute," Numbuh 3 whispered into her female friend's ear.

Numbuh 1 perceived the sound of her voice and simply gave them a detailed stare, reading '_Not now._' "How about this: For today, you can just relax and explore the Treehouse. Go wherever you like. Only, try not to go unsupervised unless you're on any of the main floors. It's easy to get lost in here."

"That's fine." Mark nodded his head understandingly.

Numbuh 1 set the papers down. "Well then, since that's settled, why don't you tell us a little about yourself?"

Another shrug. "Well, if you're interested…"

"Greatly," Numbuh 2 quickly proclaimed.

"Well, okay. I was born in Italy, where I lived with my parents and brother for two years. A year after my father left, I moved to Pennsylvania that year with my mother and older brother, and that same year was when my brother joined the Kids Next Door." Mark took a breather. "He was trained the same way I was recently, and, the following two months, he officially graduated as Numbuh 12.8."

"Hold up. _Hold_ _up,_" Numbuh 2 exclaimed, waving everything else off in sudden realization. He pointed at him. "You're saying that _your_ brother was _the_ Numbuh 12.8?"

Mark nodded.

"Ya know tha guy?" Numbuh 4 demanded.

"Heck yes, I do! He was one of the best operatives in the Kids Next Door! Plus his trading cards were pretty rare. Rumor has it he used to be in Sector V."

"Oh, how convenient," Numbuh 1 muttered, sarcastically.

Lucky for him, nobody heard.

"Sector V…" Numbuh 3 said in thought. Within seconds, it came to her. "Hey, that's our Sector!"

Numbuh 2 nodded. "Uh huh. He was in the Kids Next Door for five years until three years ago, when he turned 13. And I _think_ that was around Cree's time in the KND."

"Cree Lincoln?"

Everyone looked at him.

"Ya know my sister?" Numbuh 5 inquired.

"Numbuh 11 is your sister?" Mark uttered with bits of surprise and shock. "Wow, that's amazing. She was my brother's leader."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Small world, huh."

"Yeah, really."

Numbuh 1 felt his patience running out. What was so hard to believe? What made it so difficult to understand? Some guy that had a brother in the Kids Next Door had joined their Sector, and apparently that was a great thing. Yeah, so Mark and Numbuh 5 _did_ have something in common. Why didn't they all just throw a party? "Can we move on?"

Mark looked up. "Sorry, of course." He sent a small wink in the rest of the team's direction. Numbuh 1, even over the rim of his shades, observed it quite clearly. "Ever since Gabriel, or Numbuh 12.8, was officially a member of the Kids Next Door, he gave me my own little training sessions every once in a while. We broke a lamp and a vase, but it was worth it. My brother taught me everything I know."

_That explains the muscles_, Numbuh 1 concluded.

"Five years later, the time he turned thirteen, I was turning eight. But instead of getting decommissioned, being the oldest of his Sector, he escaped decommissioning alongside his team. My mother has not seen him ever since.

"And now, two years later, here I am. My main objective here in the Kids Next Door is to follow in my brother's footsteps."

It took a second for anyone to speak.

"Wow…" Numbuh 4 trailed in awe.

Numbuh 3 smiled. "What's it like?"

Mark looked at her. "I'm sorry?" he questioned, slightly puzzled.

"I say, what's it like?" she repeated. "You know, not seeing somebody close to you for a long time? It must be lonely."

"In a way, I guess it sort of is. I mean, now he's against the Kids Next Door, and I'm in it. I'm not sure of whether I should be against _him_ or not."

Numbuh 1 sighed. The scenario sounded awfully familiar to the team, so it shouldn't have come as a surprise. He looked down at the files to be filled out. If they wanted to chat amongst themselves, they might as well do it on their own time. He shuffled the papers in his hands so corners did not bend. "Um…listen, Mark. It seems to me you can handle anything necessary to your understanding if it isn't cleat. If any of you need me, I'll be working on your report in my room."

No response followed.

Numbuh 1 slowly walked off the stage. "So, uh…I'll just be in my room if you…you know."

Not silence, but ignorance.

"So, how did _you_ get to choose your own Sector?" Numbuh 4 demanded. "Ah mean, Ah got mine programmed by that watche-ma-callet, and Ah ended up all the way down in Sector V." Numbuh 4 nudged Numbuh 2. "Sucks, right?"

"Numbuh 4, just don't talk," Numbuh 5 affirmed.

A chuckle escaped Mark's throat. "Well, they told me that my level tops most of the others, so it wouldn't matter where I was put. They said that if I had trouble deciding, then they would just use that Code Module. But I decided Sector V, so they just typed it into the machine."

"So why Sector V?"

He shrugged. "Well, as I told you, my brother was in this Sector. So, if I want to follow in his footsteps, I might as well go as detailed as possible. Plus, I needed somewhere close to my home, so I could be with my family."

"If you're so cautious about your family, why the heck did you even join the Kids Next Door in the first place?" was what Numbuh 1 wanted to question, considering that he was still standing in the room. But he didn't. He should leave. There were reports to be complete. He did not want a conjecturing affection for this new Kid Next Door.

Numbuh 1 didn't bother saying one last 'goodbye' to the group. He simply turned around sharply on his heel, tucked the folder of papers under his arm, and walked out of the room formally. Not like it mattered to the team whether he was still in the room or not.

**…Transmission Interrupted…**

**

* * *

**

_Nothing is easier than self-deceit. For what each person wishes, that he also believes to be true._


	5. Passion in the Making

…**Continuing Transmission…**

In a room filled with large sheets of paper with blue-penciled drawings and many inventions in all different shapes and sizes, there sat a young boy at a wooden desk. A pencil clutched between his fingertips, he moved his hand back and forth along a blank sheet of paper, in thought of a new idea. Nothing drawn on the paper yet left his mind as blank as the white sheet in front of him. He'd already constructed almost all of the possible ideas he'd ever had. Dozens and dozens of other mechanisms filled the room already. What room was there for one more?

But Numbuh 2, at the desk, wouldn't stop. He had that inside of him. There was always something to invent, and he treasured his father's passed-on talent. It was using your imagination and bringing it to life. Just so devout, one would agree. Beside the point, his mind was not working well today. He felt as if he'd already used all the world's ideas. Either that or he just couldn't concentrate. But what was his mind on? There was nothing to be distracted by. Sure, some newbie was in the Treehouse. But Numbuh 2 didn't see anything worth worrying about in Mark. And why was Numbuh 1 acting so vigilant? Not that he never did, but…

Numbuh 2 slammed his pencil down onto the desk and buried his head in his hands. What was with him? He didn't usually act like this. Confusion just wasn't his thing. Well, it was, but not really. Not about something like this. He didn't want Numbuh 1 to be acting so cagey. He didn't want their relations to take a turn for the worst. And Mark. With Mark around, would everything turn upside down? Had the Higher Power decided it time for a change or something?

Despite the puzzling questions running through his mind, they did not keep him oblivious to his senses; for he was able to feel a light touch on his shoulder. He jumped, only slightly, and spun around to face the hand's owner. There, in front of him, was the very person that haunted his mind so curiously. With that smile plastered on his face, Numbuh 2 received the same feeling he'd gotten as soon as the boy walked through the door.

"Hey. What 'cha up to?"

So simple, and yet so refreshing.

Numbuh 2 returned the smile. "Hey Mark," he replied. He looked back at his work. "Just working on some new inventions."

Mark Ashlock glanced down at the blank sheet of paper. "Oh, well…I'd say they're looking pretty good."

"Yeah, I know," Numbuh 2 feebly laughed. "My mind's sort of like, _gone_ right now. 'Guess there's a lot going on now-a-days." He somehow managed to sink down into his stool. "I don't know why, though."

Mark nodded, almost shyly. "I know what you mean. It's been going a little fast for me too." He cast his gaze down at the floor. "I don't want anybody feeling uncomfortable with me around, so just pretend I'm an old buddy, okay?"

Numbuh 2 laughed. "Deal."

Mark glanced down at the blank sheet of paper once again. "Did you need my help?"

"Um…that's okay. I mean, I don't want to inconvenience you."

"Of course not. I'd love to help out."

Numbuh 2 sent a fleeting look up at Mark. "Really? If it's not too much trouble…"

Mark waved the remark away. "It's the least I can do."

One of the greatest operatives' brothers was offering him help. No matter how many times he repeated the thought in his head, it seemed more and more remarkable, even if Mark _did_ seem like just a normal kid.

So his promised was kept. Minutes turned into hours as the two kids worked together on their new plan. It was just around eight o'clock when they were finished. Both of them were filthy and chortling. Grease covered their bodies from head to toe, staining their shirts and pants and even smeared on their faces. On top of Numbuh 2's head was a big clump of tar. But, being guys, misery from stained clothes did not haunt the two. Instead, warm, meaningful laughs practically echoed through the room.

Mark grabbed a cloth off of the chair next to him and tossed it over to Numbuh 2. "You got a little smudge on your nose," He proclaimed.

Numbuh 2 shrugged. "I could say the same thing about your cheeks," he declared as he wiped the edge of the cloth across his nose.

"Yeah, well at least I don't look like a sheep," Mark retorted amusingly.

"Oh yeah? At least I don't look like…whatever you look like."

Mark pulled a smaller washcloth from the edge of a chair and wiped his cheeks off, the tar coming off in one swipe. He sighed as he looked up at their masterpiece. "Well, here we are." It seemed to glimmer and sparkle in the light.

The pilot nodded. "It's awesome," he muttered, dazed.

Quickly, Mark grabbed the blue-prints from the desk right beside him. He handed it to his companion. "So, what are you gonna call it?" he asked.

"Me?" Numbuh 2 inquired, a little stunned. "But you-"

"It's your work, Numbuh 2," he affirmed. "Besides, I'm nowhere near as creative as you are."

"But…"

Mark patted him on the back. "You're a great 2x4 technology officer. I'll bet girls love you."

Numbuh 2 felt the need to laugh at that. "You know it."

"I'm going to go get into some clean clothes. See you around, I guess."

He smiled. "Looking forward to it."

* * *

"_Rainbow Monkeys, Rainbow Monkeys, oh so very round and super chunky…_" there came forth the playful sounds of children's voices singing merrily to a tune. Leaning against this colorful CD player of which the music came from was a green monkey doll. It had a lighter shade of green on its belly and mouth, with a little pink nose and black bead eyes. On top of its head was a little figure of a 2-dimensional rainbow made from plastic. Lying around the room were other stuffed animals. At every corner, anywhere in sight, there was a pile of stuffed animals. It was practically exhilarating.

A girl, long black hair flowing down her back that swung behind her as she whirled around, laughed with pleasure. As she spun in circles to the fun music, she held by the arms another monkey-shaped doll. Instead of green fur covering its body, its soft fur was purple. Also, unlike the doll against the CD player, this one wore a pair of rectangle-framed sunglasses plus a pair of tattered jeans.

"_Oh red and orange, and pink and blue…Rainbow Monkeys, Rainbow Monkeys, we love you!_"

Numbuh 3 squealed excitedly and giggled. She threw herself onto her bed in the shape of a child's toy, clutching her violet monkey-like doll. "Oh, Fun Party-Bash Rainbow Monkey; you're so fun to party with!" She suddenly gasped and sat up immediately. "We should invite all our friends and throw a party in Numbuh 4's room," she suggested with excitement. Her arms raised the doll to her level. "What do you think, Fun Party-Bash Rainbow Monkey?"

Fun Party-Bash Rainbow Monkey remained silent; not even a peep escaped any part of it. But in Numbuh 3's head, it had a hundred things to say. A silence passed over the room as Numbuh 3 listened to her Fun Party-Bash Rainbow Monkey.

"Good idea!" she screeched, as if it were the most amazing proposal. "I'll go invite some of my friends, and _you_ can invite yours."

With that, she placed her doll in front of a pile of other monkey-shaped multicolored dolls into a sitting position. "Rainbow Monkey buddies," she announced, "Fun Party-Bash Rainbow Monkey would like to ask you a question." She stood up straight and waved her sleeve at her toys. "Be right back!"

With her promise in mind, Numbuh 3 skipped off happily, humming the familiar tune. A hobby like this almost always gets outgrown. But, of course, for her, she knew and hoped the hobby would withstand. Well, she _was_ in the Kids Next Door, anyway. So what's the point of outgrowing it so soon? Ten years old isn't that old. Besides, who's to say a child as herself could not dance around her bedroom with a doll wearing jeans? It's a natural gift, being a child. It's best just to enjoy every minute of it while it lasts.

Numbuh 3 flipped through imaginary images of who to invite to the big party:

_Numbuh 1? Nah…too worky-shmirky._ She chuckled. _Numbuh 2? Hm…maybe. But probably still working on that thingy-ma-bobber._ She flipped another photo. _Tee-hee! Me? Okay!_ She laughed out loud as she turned another corner. Her eyes gave sight to a large brown door with a big number '4' roughly painted on it. _Numbuh 4…well, worth a try._

It was a ridiculous hope. For some reason, Numbuh 4 seemed to decline any activity that involved 'cruddy Rainbow Donkeys'. It was saddening, considering a few reasons for desperately wanting him to play with her every once in a while. Was it too much to ask? Maybe just one game wouldn't hurt him, could it?

"Numbuh 3?"

Numbuh 3 felt herself leap somewhat at the sound of her name being said. She turned around after quickly stepping away for Numbuh 4's door. It was a surprise to see him in the hallways; after all, Numbuh 1 usually would have been bombarding him with mountains of documents and work.

It may have been surprising, but that didn't stop it from being exciting. "Mark. Hi-ya!"

Mark smiled. "How're ya doing, Numbuh 3?"

"You wanna come to my party?" she asked eagerly, ignoring the common query. "We're having it in Numbuh 4's room. Everyone's invited."

"Everyone…" Mark repeated in a questionable tone. "Even operatives from Moonbase?"

Numbuh 3 chuckled giddily. "No, silly! Just me, my toys and you, if you want to."

Mark smiled warmly. "That sounds like fun. Thanks for the consideration."

"Aw, it's no big," she replied in a playful tone. "I told Fun Party-Bash Rainbow Monkey all about you. He really wants to meet you."

* * *

_For cryin' out loud, Numbuh 5. Take your mind off things for a sec, will ya?_

A dark-skinned girl lay upon a bed of blue sheets, her nose caught in another one of her magazines. She just couldn't seem to get enough of those things. She herself admitted that. There was just always something new to read and learn. She treated her glossy magazines like a teacher treated a school textbook.

But it wasn't like she was completely and utterly obsessed with them, like those teenagers were. It wasn't like she would run straight to the magazine shack as soon as she entered a drugstore, or beg/threat Numbuhs 2 and 4 to get it on their way to the Comic Convention (ahem). Just that she had nothing better to do. Nobody expected her to go and file a bunch of paperwork with Numbuh 1. No one had her in mind to build a new 2x4 technology weapon like Numbuh 2. Everybody knew she wouldn't go and ask Numbuh 3 if she could play tea party with her. And she _certainly_ did not wrestle weird-looking robots in a wrestling rink like Numbuh 4.

No, she was just unique in her own special way. That's why she loved Sector V. Everybody had different personalities and interests. I mean, any sane person would agree that it would be mildly boring if they were all the same, no offense to the sane people who do not agree.

Magazines were not only what made her different, nonetheless. It was also the fact that she was, well, the _sensible_ one. She was the one to always back up the team, sometimes even lead them, when they were in need; the one who almost always made up the plans, and most of the time, they'd turn to her in a tough situation. People said that she was the only one with the 'common sense'. All the same, she disagreed.

There was Numbuh 1, of course. For some reason, people tended to leave him out of the 'smart' category. She still wasn't sure why, though. He was intelligent. Okay, so he wasn't the calmest of the group. But that was a good thing, right? What would happen if Numbuh 1 were like Numbuh 5? If he didn't worry, he wouldn't do anything about a situation, and many consequences could take place. Her leader always had something to say, opinion-wise or not. But no matter what it was, it always came in use.

Despite intelligence, the team did not have to be shrewd to be a good operative. Numbuh 2 was special in his own way as well. Without him, there would be no weapons of aircrafts to aid them sumptuously on their missions. That wasn't all. Without him, there would be no justice when it came to crime scenes. She was so happy for him. He didn't need anybody to make him happy. He knew everything in his life was a treasure, and, Numbuh 5 knew, he wouldn't trade anything he had for something better. Loyalty.

Numbuh 3 also had something special inside her heart that healed those who are hurting. Not only because of the fact that she was in the medical field, but because she had such a kind and gentle soul. All right, so it wasn't always the gentlest. However, she was definitely somebody to turn to for a bit of cheering up. Without Numbuh 3, there was just no spirit in Sector V.

It wasn't his height that made Numbuh 4 special. As they say, don't judge a book by its cover. Although he wasn't the brightest of them all, he always had something on his mind that gave him the brilliance he contained inside him. Numbuh 5 enjoyed her time with him when it came to teasing him. They had a bond that way. Being in almost all the same classes for the whole year now, it gave Numbuh 5 a chance to really get to know the intelligent guy inside of him.

So, that was it. There's Sector V for you. All five of them. And yet… for some reason, there was this sudden…strange…incomplete…

She closed her magazine. "Aw, Numbuh 5," she urged herself as she placed onto the countertop next to her. "Ya really know how to take your mind off things, don't ya."

* * *

A tall, tanned boy dizzily pushed a door open with the number '4' painted on it in red. He walked out of a very colorful room with much struggle to maintain balance. The curtain fell back into its normal position as he let go of it.

"Bye, Mark," called a voice from inside the colorful room. "Remember: don't tell Numbuh 4."

Mark Ashlock laughed to himself as he responded with, "I won't. I promise."

His feet dragged him across the hallways of the Sector V bedrooms. As he struggled to maintain proper balance (having been the first time in a while he sustained a normal pace), he shook his head in hopes of clearing it. He loved parties, incase anybody received the wrong impression. He really did. But torture was the party that kept you dancing song after song, especially fact-paced ones. Maybe, just maybe, fast-pace was a good thing. How awkward it would've been if a slow song came on.

He pulled his sticky white t-shirt off his stomach, only to have it stick back to him when he released it. Well, it looked as if he would have to get dressed again.

The final door made him come to a complete stop. A rectangular wooden flap with the rough number '5' painted on it in red, as he saw in front of him, had caught his attention almost instantly. The change of clean clothes would have to wait. That actually _could_ wait.

With a deep exhale, he pushed to door open.

* * *

Numbuh 5 sighed and laid her head upon the pillow under her. She had been right. She'd predicted a change, and here it was. She hated change. She'd been best friends with her sister, and that changed. She looked up to Numbuh 274, and that changed. She cared a lot about Maurice, and that took a major turn. Almost ironic. Was there ever such thing as good change? She was a part of Sector V, surrounded by the best operatives and friends she could ever imagine. That was a good thing, right? Of course it was. Would that change as well?

There was a creak of the floorboards.

She gasped and looked over her shoulder to face the figure that created the slim noise. Her gaze instantly locked with those golden eyes. "Mark," she almost whispered as if talking to herself. "What're ya doing here?"

"I'm sorry. I was hoping we could talk," he assured. "But it looks like your ready to turn in."

Numbuh 5 was already in her nightwear; blue robe and white fuzzy slippers, also keeping her hat on her head as always. "No, dun worry 'bout it," she quickly insisted as she swiftly sat up on her bed. "Numbuh 5 can last a lil' longer."

Mark smiled at her. "That's good." He had a seat at the foot of her bed. "Are you handling things well with me around?" he asked. Any levelheaded kid could catch that little bit of concern in his voice.

"I guess," she answered, awkwardly, kind of surprised by the inquiry. "Why do ya ask?"

The Italian boy heavily sighed. "Well," he began, "I guess that I'm just concerned about your leader's opinion."

"Numbuh 1?" She watched him nod. "Ya shouldn't mind him. Sometimes he's…_over_cautious."

She was suddenly hoping that Numbuh 1 didn't send Mark to ask her these questions. Regardless, she reassured herself that wasn't the case. Mark wouldn't do that. Numbuh 1 wouldn't even do that. She understood that being overconfident could tend to be, from past experiences, very dangerous.

Numbuh 5 looked at him in the eyes. "Don't worry about him. If ya want, Numbuh 5 can talk to him."

"Oh no, there's no need," Mark pronounced. "I just wanted to make sure he's comfortable with me staying here for a little while. That goes for you and your friends as well."

She nodded. "Well, if he does something stupid, Numbuh 5'll toss some sense into 'im."

Mark chuckled. "Be sure not to harm him while you're at it," he claimed wittily.

"I won't," she guaranteed. Then she decided to change the subject, crossing her legs and sitting up straighter as she did so. "Ya know, Numbuh 5'd love ta know a lil' more 'bout yo brother?"

"Gabriel?" he murmured. "There's really not much to know."

"Oh…sure." Numbuh 5 sensed the bit of his discomfort. She hated it when she made people uncomfortable. Well, not her teammates; she had the time of her life teasing Numbuh 4, and sometimes the others. But someone she'd only known for barely a day; she would usually feel a little tight herself.

Mark looked at her down face. "Would you mind if I asked you something?"

She glanced up. "No, 'course not. What is it?"

"Do you have any interest in leadership?"

For a second, she just looked at him. What to say? Should she just confront him? It was barely his first day. She didn't want to let out on her own thoughts so quickly. Simple was enough for him to handle at the moment. "No, I don't think so."

"Why not?"

She sighed. Explanations were not on her favorite's list. "I guess 'cause…leadership just isn't Numbuh 5's thing."

He looked at her doubtfully.

"I really don't mind not being leader."

He kept that look on her.

"Aren't you the curious one," Numbuh 5 laughed.

Mark shared the laugh. "I don't mean to make you feel uncomfortable, so if you don't want to talk about it…"

"If ya don't mind…"

"Not at all. After all, we've only known each other's names for less than a day."

_What d' ya know? He's on my side._

Silence overshadowed them for a moment. Mark cleared his unblocked throat and stood. "Well, I'll see you tomorrow," he acknowledged. Uneasiness was broken when a smile appeared on his face. "How does that sound?"

"Sounds like fun."

And he left. Now, Numbuh 5 knew, she would _never_ get her mind off things.

…**Transmission Interrupted…**

* * *

_You may be deceived if you trust too much, but you will live in torment unless you trust enough._


	6. Common Cold

…**Transmission Continued…**

"Ah'm tellin' ya, Numbuh 2," Numbuh 4 proclaimed as the two of them took wide, quick steps down the paved sidewalk, as they did every weekday after the school bell rang. "That Mrs. O'Grady is a cruddy vampire. Ah'll bet ya she's workin' with that Count Spankin'-dork."

Numbuh 2 laughed. "They're probably related."

"But seriously. Did ya see those teeth? They're like-" He paused to lift his fingers and point them down from the roof of his mouth. He made a loud hissing noise through his teeth.

"I'm thinking she's some sort of adult-cat person."

"That woman just _screams_ Kids Next Door villain."

Silence passed over the two good friends. The air was becoming chilly. The sun almost completely hid behind the dark clouds as even darker ones floated in above their heads. The treetops lightly rustled.

"'Looks like a storm," Numbuh 4 declared.

"Boy, you catch on fast," Numbuh 2 said with sarcasm.

They quickened their pace. Well, Numbuh 2 did, while Numbuh 4 kept up with him. A storm was common in the late spring. As a bright side, they always though of it as a sign that summer was just around the corner. Or, in their case, school was near its end.

"'Ey, Numbuh 2?" the blonde Aussie inquired. "Do ya think Mark's gonna be able t' stay in our Secta'?"

Numbuh 2 shrugged. "I don't know. I mean, the maximum amount of kids in a Sector is six." He looked at his smaller friend. "I guess he's got a chance."

"That's good." He smiled.

"You think he'll fit in?"

"Ah dunno. Maybe. Ah mean, I'm the only normal one on th' team, and Ah fit in pretty good."

The pilot rolled his eyes. "You should feel _well_ about that, Numbuh 4."

"Ah do." Numbuh 4 raised his chin into the air as he walked ahead.

Numbuh 2 scratched his head, interest suddenly overwhelming his mind as the clouds completely obstructed the sun's rays from reaching the earth. "I wonder what it'll be like if he _does_ join Sector V."

* * *

By then, the sky had become gray. There was no sign of a white cloud anywhere. The wind had, in time, picked up. It carried paper-thin objects along the pavement. Often in the distance, lightning would flash. No rain poured down quite yet, but from the looks of the heavy billows hovering above them, it was undoubtedly on its way.

Numbuh 3's muscles began to ache as she struggled to pull down the window pane. She pulled with all her might, but it would not budge. She figured that the top of it had frozen, or maybe even caught in a branch. Whatever it was, it was not about to let her win. The strong winds waved the furs on her stuffed animals back and forth rapidly. She was afraid of how much stronger the storm would get. And how long would it last.

For comfort, she picked up an orange Rainbow Monkey that lay solemnly on her bed. "Oh, Willy," she sighed and hugged her favorite doll. "Just thinking about all those poor little animals out there in the mean old storm makes me wanna-"

There was a soft knock. "Come in," she exclaimed.

The curtain at the entrance of her bedroom was pulled aside. Mark Ashlock stepped into the room. "Numbuh 1 informed me to tell the team that everyone must stay inside the treehouse tonight."

Numbuh 3 smiled. "Okay. Thanks Mark."

He looked around at the dolls. "So, I see the party was a great success. Everyone seems to have a smile."

"Yeah," she agreed with a laugh. "Thanks for coming. We all had so much fun" She suddenly gasped. "You didn't tell Numbuh 4…"

Mark chuckled. He held his hands up. "Don't you worry, Numbuh 3. I didn't tell a soul."

Relief. "That's good. I knew I could trust you."

* * *

A loud alarm system rang through the incredibly large Treehouse. The lights hovering above their heads turned red and flashed in a flickering manner. Four kids came from all directions to meet in the long, wide hallway. They ran in a rough line towards a door with the number '1' painted on it. The door opened automatically and the kids ran into the room. Each took a seat at the large black tire.

Numbuh 1 ascended from the small compartment on the stage. As soon as he was at level, he clutched the stand. "Good evening, Kids Next Door. Just recently, we've received information that the adults are planning to cut off only specific channels on the television using the storm's lightning rods. Channels that play _cartoons and kids shows_. So, Moonbase has left it up to us to close down their plans."

"Got a specific location, Numbuh 1?" requested Numbuh 5.

"As a matter of fact, they're planning on blasting the wires at Longhill Park. That's where the satellite dish for the whole city is. If we move quickly enough, we should make it there before the lightning-controller is set up."

"How are they planning on cutting off the signals of only kids shows?"

Numbuh 1 pondered for a moment before finally replying with, "Good question, Numbuh 2. Moonbase didn't specify the ability of their mechanism. The main point is that they are going to attempt to do it, and it's up to us to stop them. So Kids Next Door-" he stopped and looked around. "Hey, where's Numbuh 3?"

At that very moment, the five kids in the briefing room heard a sneeze. They all turned around to see Numbuh 3 walking into the room, slowly, holding a bunch of tissues. She sneezed again. And then again. She paused for a second to blow her nose into a tissue.

Numbuh 1 was annoyed. "Numbuh 3, did you not hear the alarm? You were supposed to be here…" He looked at his watch. "…_26 seconds_ ago."

"Boy, Numbuh 3, you don't look so good," Numbuh 2 muttered.

The Japanese girl sniffed. "I-" She sniffed again. "I think I caught a cold."

"Yeah, no kiddin'," Numbuh 5 claimed.

"My window wouldn't close, so I just left it open."

Mark came over so he stood next to her. "Maybe she should lie down in another bedroom. I'm sure she needs some rest."

"Mark, this is a very important mission. Hundreds of kids are at risk of losing cartoons for who-_knows_-how-long. We can't take the chance of being one operative short. We need every available operative for aid on this mission."

"But Numbuh 1, its freezin' out there," Numbuh 4 confirmed. "Ah'm not tha' doctor here, but tha cold can get worse. Besides, Ah can take those cruddy adults in her place."

Numbuh 3 smiled at that.

"This is not your decision, Numbuh 4."

"Numbuh 1," Mark spoke out. "I don't mean to sound rebellious, but maybe it is best if she stays here and rests. The missions will most likely wear her out more. Also, it is pretty cold out there. She might catch hypothermia."

Numbuh 4 opened his mouth. But before he could ask, Numbuh 5 answered, "It's something you catch when you're in the cold for too long." Numbuh 4 shut his mouth and nodded understandingly.

"Mark's got a point, Numbuh 1," Numbuh 2 added.

The leader signed helplessly. There really was no outranking five kids on your own. "Fine," he murmured, noticeably bothered by the decision. How his team managed to oppose his decision, he had trouble understanding. Well, actually, he understood it since they almost always did when he was being unreasonable. But how they managed to deny his decision completely was…rather startling. And unnatural.

Numbuh 3 sneezed once more. Mark turned to the rest of the team. "Is there a requested bedroom you'd like her to rest, Numbuh 1?"

He was troubled. Yes, that was it. That was the right word. Troubled. Troubled by a new operative in the Treehouse; troubled by his teammates disregarding his authority as their leader; troubled by the fact that he was no longer the Nigel Uno he'd always known.

Since her leader did not answer for a long time, Numbuh 5 got to her feet. "I'll take her to _my_ room."

Mark nodded. "And how about I try getting that window shut before we all catch a cold?"

"Ah'll help ya," Numbuh 4 insisted quickly.

Within that moment, Numbuhs 3 through 5 and Mark were clear out of the room.

Numbuh 2 turned to his leader, who paced the stage. "What's up with you, Numbuh 1?" he inquired. "Don't you care if Numbuh 3's all right or not?"

"Of course I care, Numbuh 2," Numbuh 1 replied, sadly. He sighed. "It's just…I don't know." He looked at his comrade. "Can I ask you something?"

"You just did, but ask away again."

Numbuh 1 struggled to come up with the right words. However, a small sentiment within him recoiled the temptation of the question. He sighed once more that day. "Never mind. It's not important. Come on. Let's get into the S.K.Y.C.L.A.W. We might as well be ready for when the team gets back from wasting time."

_Wasting time?_ demanded Numbuh 2, eager to express it out loud, too baffled to do so.

…**Transmission Interrupted…**

* * *

_In these days, a man who says a thing cannot be done is quite apt to be interrupted by some idiot doing it._


	7. His First Mission

…**Continuing Transmission…**

Lightning flashed repeatedly. Everything was gray and irritably alive. It was hard to believe it was near the end of spring. Wind blew loud, screeching sounds around them, and the moon hadn't even bothered to peek through the clouds. Through the strong whistles of the skies, a flying contraption appeared to come out of the clouds in the moon's replacement. It whizzed in opposite direction of the wind. Another flash of lighting caused a quick glister against the ship's glossy windows.

"Ah still don't see why we left Numbuh 3 alone in th' Treehouse," Numbuh 4 complained.

"Numbuh 4, if I explain it once more, my brain juice is going to spill all over your lap," Numbuh 1 claimed.

"Just get over it, Numbuh 4," advised Numbuh 2. "Besides, Numbuh 3'll be all right with my newly installed Super Duper Ultra Alarm System."

"Maybe we should just concentrate on the mission," Numbuh 1 suggested. His gaze directed toward Ashlock. "So Mark, you understand the operation, don't you?" He watched the Italian boy nod his head. "Excellent, so are you ready?"

"Ready as I'll ever be, Numbuh 1."

The dark-skinned girl at the controllers turned to face Numbuh 1. "We're T minus 10 seconds away from the set-up area, boss."

"Close enough. Take her down, Numbuh 2."

The ship descended to a small spot behind a clustered bunch of bushes and trees. It was so much quieter down here. Barely any wind at all. The machine landed with a quiet thud, causing dust clouds to form, and then fade quickly. A steel door slid open, creating a small ramp from the exit to the grassy grounds below them.

The leader turned to the pilot as Numbuhs 4, 5 and Mark exited the ship. "Numbuh 2, I want you to stay here incase of any unexpected necessary back-up. Plus we'll need somebody on the hidden lookout for anything suspicious."

"Roger that, Numbuh 1," Numbuh 2 responded with a salute.

The four operatives, Numbuhs 1, 4, 5 and Mark, exited the ship, each of them clutching tightly onto their own weapon. Numbuh 1 led them through the edge of the forest quietly. He hid behind a tall tree, and the other three did the same at separate trees. He put a finger to his lips, and then cupped his hand over his ear, as if to say '_listen'_.

There was a young man's voice. "All I'm saying, boss, is that maybe we should have moved it closer to the telephone poll."

"And what does the telephone poll have to do with my television?" said another older man's wrinkly voice.

They all looked at each other; Numbuh 1 nodded his head to them. This was it. The leader moved his index and middle finger in a motion for them to follow him. They all nodded, and so Numbuh 1 began to move closer to the voices. Numbuh 5 trailed close behind, Mark tagged along behind her, and Numbuh 4 followed at the end.

"Well, there should be hydroelectric wires surrounded by the telephone wires on the polls, since there's more electricity transmitted through them," the younger man explained, clearly unaware of what he was saying due to the shakiness of his high voice.

The four of them reached a long row of bushes. Numbuh 1 ducked behind one of the shorter ones. Numbuh 5 stepped up to the right of him, and Mark came up beside her. Numbuh 4 went over to the other side of Numbuh 1.

They managed to peek over the bush without being seen. Their eyes caught sight of two men surrounded by a bunch of other adults in conversation. One was older, his facial hair replacing the missing hair on his head. He was rather chubby and had a black cape tied around his neck. The younger man was much thinner and had brown bushy hair with a goatee. He did not have on a cape, but jeans and a t-shirt.

"Excuse me, Junior. But who's the one who sits in front of the television all day? So who knows most about television?"

The young man sighed. "You do, father."

Numbuh 1 watched the older man nod. "That's right. So who are you to boss your boss around?"

"Nobody, sir."

"When I say I want my TV time all to myself 24 hours a day and 7 days a week, I mean I don't want my kids with their friends barging in and asking me if they would watch_ 'Rainbow Monkeys,_' or '_Yipper_,' or all those other kiddy shows of theirs!"

Numbuh 4 huffed. "Those cruddy adults have no cruddy clue of who their messin' with," he hissed. "They're goin'-"

Numbuh 1 frantically clamped a hand over Numbuh 4's mouth. By the direction of the conversation between the two adults, he had this sudden obvious suspicion that they heard him.

"Junior, did you hear something?"

"Yeah, boss. I did. But what was it?"

"'Sounds like it came from behind those bushes."

Numbuh 1, of course being not so unmindful of the hint of sneaky sarcasm in their voices, instantly recognized the fact that the adults knew that they were there. He jumped up from behind the bushes, fists in the air, weapon still clutched in his right hand. He yelled into the sky, "Kids Next Door, Battle Stat- _Yipe_!"

All of a sudden, there was an unexpected blow at the tips of the bush, just barely missing the top of Numbuh 1's head before he rapidly ducked down with a yelp. The leaves and parts of the branches at the top of the bush were now as black as Numbuh 1's sunglasses.

The younger man was holding some sort of ray gun. He was still aiming it at the bush full of children, smoke casually drifting upwards from the muzzle.

"Thought you could get passed the adults, huh," the older man said with a wide smirk. "Thought you could hide from the ruler of the stars; the fate of all presence; the master of all evil; the…"

"Man, this guy doesn't get out much," Numbuh 4 whispered to the other operatives as the older man continued to blabber villain quotes from science-fiction television shows.

"But lets cut to the chase here, shall we," the so-called ruler of the stars proclaimed. "Kids Next Door, prepare to be _vanquished_!" He did the typical rhythmic laughter all mad scientists made. A flash of lightening appeared behind him with a loud thunder clap.

_Oh, the irony,_ Numbuh 1 thought mordantly.

The younger man pulled the trigger once more. A large white beam came incredibly swiftly towards them.

Numbuh 1 gasped. "Incoming!" he shrieked.

The operatives shrieked before dodging the beam. Numbuhs 1 and 4 leapt to one side, while Numbuh 5 and Mark dove in the other direction. It just barely missed all of them. The entire bush instantly became a black crisp.

Instantly, the leader of Sector V jumped to his feet, still clutching onto his S.P.L.A.N.K.E.R. "Kids Next Door; Battle stations!"

Mark Ashlock quickly stood onto his own feet, helping Numbuh 5 up with him. Four adults in black leather trench coats approached them, each clutching their own weapon. Before Numbuh 5 could raise her S.C.A.M.P.P, Mark was already beginning to shoot at them. Within three pulls of the trigger, all of the agents were lying on the cold grassy grounds, moaning in defeat.

Behind her, she heard slow, unsuccessfully muffled footsteps walking towards them. She immediately turned around and fired the S.C.A.M.P.P. at him. The green beam came at the adult agent's face, knocking him backwards.

Mark grinned. "Nice shot."

"'Least Numbuh 5 got to kick _someone's_ butt today," she muttered sardonically.

More leather-suited agents were coming towards the two of them. Mark was the first to notice, and by then they were only feet away. He quickly looked at Numbuh 5. "You should begin disabling the mechanism. Now would be a good time, with all the agents distracted."

"Ya won't need any help?" She seemed apprehensive.

His head tilted, and he plastered a small reassuring smile on his face. She only nodded with understanding. Mark watched her as she made a break towards the large mechanism already set up and preparing for lightening to strike it.

* * *

Numbuh 1 positioned the S.P.L.A.N.K.E.R. right at one agent's face, and then pulled the trigger. The thick board came and hit his visage with a loud smack. His body slumped to the ground, tongue hanging out at the corner of his open mouth. Numbuh 1 nodded his head at him, his eyebrows crossed and a small smile of satisfaction resting on his lips. That would teach him for sneaking up on the Kids Next Door. At that time, he realized that it was not as difficult as Shaggy and Scooby made it seem to be a distraction.

He turned toward his teammate. Numbuh 4 was pulling the trigger continuously to the S.L.U.G.G.U.H., and each time, a medium-sized, heavy glove on a spring would thrust at a new agent's head. His expression was stern as he was lightly biting his tongue.

More men in trench coats came forward. Numbuh 4 was first to take action. The two boys were easily handling the attackers, each one falling one by one. There were not very many left.

"'Ey, Numbuh 1," Numbuh 4 called over to his leader. "Check out Mark's supah-speed." The Aussie didn't keep his eyes focused on Mark for long and went straight back into battle with the grown ups. Just the way he liked it.

At first, Numbuh 1 resisted watching the newer operative taking action in exceeding his own warfare techniques. However, his curiosity took over, and he found his chance to swiftly glace towards Ashlock. He received the image in his mind he had been afraid of from day one. Mark was skillfully taking out every single attacker without the use of his weapon. Numbuh 1 couldn't help but set his eyebrows lower towards his nose.

When he turned around, he ended up face to face with an angry old man.

* * *

"Man, where's Numbuh 2 when ya need him?" she uttered to herself. Numbuh 5 knew that only he understood this stuff clearly. Even though she wasn't as talented in engineering as the 2x4 technology officer was, she knew a few things about disabling machines. Plus the diagram that Numbuh 2 made for her to use helped a whole lot as well. _All right, so if the green wire and the blue wire are crossed, then the red wire…_ she gently took a red wire and carefully unhooked it from the small black box in the middle of the controller. _The red wire's got to go and hook up to the blue. But how is Numbuh 5 supposed to unhook the yellow from the red without setting it off?_

She didn't come to realize how strangely familiar this all sounded.

Though her body was crouched into a small compartment in the huge mechanism, she could feel droplets of water splattering at the back of her legs and shirt. She heard rain hitting the grassy grounds roughly, and the winds began to pick up, angling the downpour of water. It was a good thing all the electrical devices were in the compartment; otherwise, they'd spark all over her from dampness.

Numbuh 5 almost had the red wire hooked up with the blue one, until suddenly she heard somebody shouting from the distance.

"Nobody messes with Mason Eckhart!"

Summarily, her body turned to face the voice. As soon as her eyes met the scenery, she saw Numbuh 1 flying back three to four feet, the older man in the cape standing with his arm outstretched in his direction. She watched, aghast, as her leader landed on his back with a painful thud. The water lightly layering the grass grounds caused a small splash when he hit. Though the landing was not as light, noticeably by his hand coming up to rub the back of his head, soft groans escaping the British boy's weakened throat.

"Numbuh 1!" still shocked, Numbuh 5 cried out her leader's name. It came to no use as the older man, Mason, advancing towards him. He was holding Numbuh 1's S.P.L.A.N.K.E.R. in his left hand, tightening his right hand into a fist with intentional anger.

The lighting was becoming brighter now, and the thunder was piercing and angry to her ears. If she did not act soon, a volt would hit the machine and all the cartoon channels would be cut for who-knew-how-long. But Numbuh 5 knew better than to leave her leader in distress. She was never one to be careless of her teammates' safety. Yet, just as she decide to run to his aid, she saw him. He grasped the mustard gun in his hands. His feet gently took him to follow Mason. The mustard gun was lowered, and he looked ready to punch Mason out.

Numbuh 5 changed her mind. She took a hold of the red and blue wire and slowly pulled them towards each other so they could hook together. A few more adjustments and the mechanism would alter without exploding and wiping out everything in the area.

* * *

As he sat up, Numbuh 1 shook his head, attempting to clear away the blurry vision that had yet to haze his surroundings. _Next time, I'm going to bring _two_ weapons with me, _he thought as he focused on the faint man holding his S.P.L.A.N.K.E.R. and pacing towards him. _Great, better make that _three_ weapons._

"So, you thought you could defeat _me_, did you?" Mason uttered paranormally. The lightning flashed duplicate times from behind him, casting a quick yet long shadow of the man over Numbuh 1.

The leader rolled his eyes._ Boy, you should lay off the science-fiction,_ he though, almost out loud.

Mason glared at him, noticing his eyes spin. "Are you mocking me, boy?" he demanded. Before there was a chance for any answer, Mason raised the S.P.L.A.N.K.E.R. at Numbuh 1's soaked head. "No matter; it'll all be over with just a pull of this trigger, anyhow."

A thick bit of saliva struggled to go down his throat. He'd experienced what it was like to have the specific weapon used against him. To point out, it is quite uncomfortable. But that was just on his behind. He'd never experienced it at his head. And he didn't really want to either. A small whine, barely even heard by Mason, escaped his dry throat. His eyes crossed to get a clear vision of the wooden board positioned right at his forehead.

He saw Mason's shaky, wrinkly finger pull down on the trigger. The sound of the board whizzing towards his head was swift and loud to his ears. As soon as the trigger was pressed down all the way, his eyes automatically shut. But when he realized that the board was taking a lot longer than it should have to hit the target, he decided with much self-argument to open an eye, just for a glance. He did so; his right eyelid slid open slightly. He managed to get a good glance at his new surroundings.

Mason was now quite a few feet away from him, on the ground, lying on his stomach. He was attempting to push himself up, groaning like all the others had when defeated. Standing above Numbuh 1, arm outstretched to offer a hand, was Mark.

Numbuh 1 almost forgot to be upset when his appreciation had taken over. In fact, he even decided to smile up at him. Mark smiled back. And yet, Numbuh 1 decided not to accept the offer of a hand. He helped himself up, and walked right passed him to pick up the S.P.L.A.N.K.E.R. lying next to Mason.

"Come on," he said. "There's not much more we need to do. Let's get back to the ship and wait for the others; Numbuh 2 will need some accompaniment in turning the T.A.R.T.E.R. around. Now that all the agents are all knocked out, Numbuhs 4 and 5 can handle it from here."

Mark stalled for time by standing there looking at the other two operatives. His mission was not over yet. Neither was Numbuh 1's.

* * *

Numbuh 4, bored since there were no more agents to beat up, had managed to observe Numbuh 1's reaction to Mark's performance. Even though he was not the brightest of the team, he could sense the discomfort between the two of them. He also knew it was not Mark's fault. Numbuh 1 was not being hospitable, that's all. Numbuh 4 understood his leader as being a great guy and a good, warm-hearted friend. Well, that is, when he _wanted_ to be. Sometimes he was just a big pain in the neck.

He recalled many moments where Numbuh 1 would treat guests or any new operatives with great respect and care, excluding the annoying ones such as Numbuh 13. What was so different about Mark? He was an excellent operative and a very friendly kid. And he was just in their Sector for a short amount of time. So it couldn't have been jealousy. But then again, he still have the opportunity to join Sector V. How would the team react to something like that? How would _Numbuh 1_ react?

"Numbuh 4, head's up!"

His ears perked to the sudden cry of his female teammate. He spun around, in time to face the younger agent just as another flash of lighting came behind him. The man's eyes were shimmering red, and he was holding a thick, heavy baseball bat. "You try to humiliate _me_, Arnold Eckhart, in front of his _father_," he howled, with much anger.

Numbuh 4 suddenly remembered: he'd beaten the guy up fairly easily. He huffed. "Ah'd be pretty embarrassed too if _Ah_ was related ta Obi-Wan Kenobi." His mutter was quiet.

Nonetheless, Arnold heard it clearly. He gave a shriek of rage. "You…_you_…" He raised the baseball bat over his head, ready to smash the Aussie right into the ground. "You're going to _pay_!" He swung the bat.

The Aussie dodged it knowledgeably. Arnold swung again and, this time, Numbuh 4 dove to the side. He rolled once, and then shot to his feet. He put up his clenched fists, ready to bang him out. "Bring it on," he exclaimed.

Arnold continued to swing over and over again. He clumsily struggled to keep a good hold of the heavy bat as it pulled him in different directions. Numbuh 4 easily dodged them barely with any effort. Quite a few times, Arnold had 'accidentally' come close; however, Numbuh 4 was just one step ahead of him.

The younger boy was so caught up in attempting to make his father proud; he barely noticed that he was completely off of hitting the KND operative. Still swinging, he looked at his father with a wide, crooked grin on his face. "Father, _father_! Are you watching?" he shouted. Delayed in his father's missed glance, he didn't even realize that Numbuh 4 had taken a hold of the bat. Arnold's arms were still swinging, but the tip of the bat remained in the Aussie's firm grasp.

Numbuh 4 grinned, "Please, yer hopeless," he stated. At that, he began to spin his body, still holding the bat. Arnold, keeping a tight grip on the other end, gave out shrieks and loud whimpers as his feet came off the ground and spun along with the bat and boy.

His clasp suddenly failed as he went flying off the bat. A long yell of anxiety fled his tortured lungs. He flew many feet before landing roughly on the cold grass, only feet away from where Numbuh 5 was working at the mechanism.

Numbuh 4 finally decided to release the empty bat, which, since still in spinning mode, soared into the bushes like the propeller of a helicopter. He stopped himself from spinning. His hand reached up to his head, while shaking it only slightly. "Whoa, brain freeze," he murmured. Numbuh 4 observed his surroundings, dizzily. _Well that worked out nicely_. He forcefully fell to the ground, almost even laughing with thrill.

* * *

Meanwhile, Mason, suddenly aware of his son's cries and shouts, looked up at the situation from where he was lying. He saw Arnold lying on the ground, clutching his head and heaving moans, not too far from where a girl was meddling with his contraption.

_A girl is meddling with my contraption._

Though still in pain, Mason pushed himself off the ground, and leaned his body on his hands and outstretched arms. His eyes displayed great anger. "Arnold! Arnold, wake up, you fool!"

He saw his son's head perk up slightly. He met his eyes.

Mason pointed at Numbuh 5. "Stop her! Stop that girl! She'll ruin our plan."

Numbuh 5 listened to the cries of rage even inside of the shallow control panel. She instantly knew that she was the only female in the area, and that Numbuh 1 had left it up to her to dismantle the operation. She leaned out of the panel, meeting the eyes of Mason. She could feel the cold gaze inside of his large pupils.

Thinking quickly, she reached for the S.C.A.M.P.P. leaning against the mechanism. But Arnold's reflexes managed to swipe it away within a millisecond. Numbuh 5 made a quiet gasp at the sudden movement. Arnold laughed hysterically as more lightening flashed with fury. He grabbed her ankle, but was suddenly shoved away by Numbuh 4. The Aussie, shrieking, tackled him to the ground so he and Arnold were farther away, out of reach.

Numbuh 5 used the time appropriately to get back. There were only two wires to disconnect, and she needed to figure out which ones.

The time was cut short when Mason saw that the S.C.A.M.P.P. was knocked closer to his valuable reach. He grinned and grabbed it, aiming it at what was about to ruin his plans if he did not act quickly. "When I say I want cartoons wiped out, I _mean_ it!" he bawled. The flash of lightening reflected the wrath in his eyes. "So long, _Kid_ Next Door!"

Just as he pulled the trigger, he felt something jab him in the waist. This caused the S.C.A.M.P.P. to misfire.

Numbuh 5 heard the tumult and her eyes instantly turned towards Mason. Next to him, just stepping away from the old man lying on his side in ache, Numbuh 1 stood. Mark was behind him, rubbing his own arm. If not for the fact that he'd managed to keep the beam a safe distance away from her, Numbuh 1 would have almost looked furious. And there was this small sensation inside of her that made her believe it wasn't only at Mason.

Her eyes turned to the laser blast. It had hit the very top of the mechanism, where the thick, metal bar that was to get struck by lightening to activate it. The S.C.A.M.P.P., being very hot, burned the bar until it turned red, causing the rest of the machine to begin to melt as the bar stayed intact. Sparked began to shoot off of it like fireworks.

"No, _no_! _No_…!" Mason shrieked. He shot to his feet, ignoring the pain in his side, and made a quick dash towards his creation. "No! My television set! My shows! My couch…!" his voice stuttered. He fell to his knees and began to whine all the shows he loved to watch, which an incredibly long list it was.

The dark-skinned operative took a few steps back, watching, dazed, as sparks continuously flew off the machines compartments and joints. Even the control panel was being burnt up. All the parts of the machine fell off their original position and onto the wet grassy grounds.

Mason just kneeled there, weeping. For some reason, he was perfectly safe. It didn't take pondering to realize why. He was right underneath a crumpled arm that had formed a small bridge, or a roof, above him. Any piece of metal that would fall towards him just hit the sturdy arm and bounced to another area.

Numbuh 1's voice rang through the angry night sky. "Kids Next Door, _retreat_!"

Numbuh 4 shot to his feet and ran towards where Numbuh 1 making a break for the ship parked somewhere in the shallow forest. He left a tangled Arnold lying in the grass, laughing goofily, completely bemused, and mumbling lines from an anonymous science-fiction television series. The blonde followed his leader into the forest.

Mark delayed, turning towards Numbuh 5 who was watching the control panel begin to flame up. "Numbuh 5, come on! It's too late to dismantle it. It will explode any minute now!"

She ran back. Mark allowed her to run past him, and then he followed.

They managed to catch up and the four ran right into the open ship. Numbuh 1 did not even have to tell Numbuh 2 to step on it, because instantly, Numbuh 2 pushed a button to close the large door and another button to come off the ground, and straight towards home, just as there was a loud explosion from behind them, and another smaller ship flew away from it right on time in the other direction.

…**Transmission Interrupted…**

* * *

_If the blind lead the blind, both shall fall into a ditch._


	8. Late Night Pressure

…**Continuing Transmission…**

Numbuh 1 paced his bedroom, hating himself. "I cannot believe this. It was a total bust. I even managed to get beat up by a guy who does nothing but watch television 24 hours a day." This wasn't like him. He'd practically insisted on a retreat before the mission was even over. _To think that if I'd left, Numbuhs 4 and 5 wouldn't have been able to manage on their own. Good thing Mark-_

He discontinued, pushing himself as far away as possible from a thought like that. _What are you thinking, Uno? Snap out of it!_ No way was he going to compliment Mark's actions. He'd contravened him. Twice in one day. Insisting Numbuh 3's exception, then refusing their departure. Politely, sure. But defiance nonetheless. There was no use of bringing it up; the team wouldn't believe him anyway.

They'd fallen in love with him. They'd fallen for his alluring charisma. How come? Because he was born in Italy? Because his brother had been some great operative? Because he was a good…a good what? A good friend? A good comrade? A good leader?

He suddenly stopped pacing. After a moment, he just shook his head. _No, that can't be it,_ said an incredibly comforting voice inside of him. _My team isn't like that. I'd suspect that they know me better than that._ However, this wasn't the first time he managed to fail his team. It wouldn't be a surprise if they were annoyed of him. He'd left his teammates in a pretty tight position. Somebody could have penetrated the Treehouse and Numbuh 3 would be unable to defend herself. Numbuh 4 most likely could not have held off that Arnold forever if Mason had come to his aid. And Numbuh 5 nearly got blasted by the S.C.A.M.P.P.

And it was his fault.

With his back facing his bed, he fell backwards onto the mattress. This inner conflict of his mustn't take over him. Not in front of his team. He had to be the strong one. But he couldn't. He'd felt like a coward. A cowardly lion. Something inside him tried to convince him that he _was_ strong. The little voice said, "_Nigel, perk up. Mark won't be around forever._" That was true. Mark would leave on Saturday.

He cast his gaze towards the small digital clock on his countertop. It was already one thirty in the morning and he still wasn't dressed for bed. It was now Tuesday, making it only five days until Saturday. That was a good sign. Time was going by fast.

"_Cheer up, Nigel,"_ said the voice. "_Pretty soon, it will all go back to normal."_

* * *

Numbuh 5 rolled to the other side of the bed for the hundredth time that night. It seemed as if she'd been tossing and turning for hours. But she'd fallen asleep earlier. For a little while. Until the dream woke her. Since then, the visions had taken over her thoughts, keeping her up.

She finally realized that she'd had enough. Forcefully, she pushed herself up off of the mattress. It was obvious she wasn't going to get much sleep. Might as well make the best of it. Her body still in a state of fatigue, she stood up off of the warm cozy bed and onto the cold hardwood floors. Her feet slipped into the white fuzzy slippers awaiting her feet beside her bed. She grabbed the blue robe hanging on the pole of her bed and slid arms through the sleeves, tying the rope around her waist for security.

Slowly and carefully her feet took her out of her bedroom and down the long hallway (which, for some reason, seemed much longer tonight). The darkness was incomplete at the fault of the small trace of moonlight streaming through the windows and into the treehouse. Thank goodness for that; otherwise, she would be completely blinded and unable to find her way to the kitchen.

It was a total relief that Numbuh 2 had built the kitchen on the same floor as the bedrooms. _He probably did it on purpose._ She would have chuckled at the thought if she wasn't on a mission to get a snack without waking anybody.

After what seemed like an eternity, she finally entered the kitchen. She could already smell the combination of all her favorite sugars and foods. Tonight, however, her mood did not call for sugar. All she really needed was a bowl of cereal, just to relax her, maybe even help tire her out. She went over to the cupboard and pulled out a small grey-blue bowl. From the drawer, she claimed a spoon. Finally, from the corner cabinet, she pulled out a box of Rainbow Munchies. Okay, so it was sugar. But it didn't necessarily mean she'd be bouncing off the walls.

The colorful pieces of cereal grains came tumbling down into her bowl until it was filled midway. Numbuh 5 grabbed the carton from the refrigerator and poured the milk in. The creamy white color turned into a light shade of pink almost as soon as it splashed into the bowl.

Unexpectedly, there was a mild shuffle from behind her. Instead of turning around to see who it was, she pretended to be completely oblivious of the soft noise, incase of a sudden attack. Although her mind evoked the fact that a villain could not possibly sneak into the Treehouse without triggering the alarm, her natural instincts told her to not take any chances.

Her tension built even more when the shuffling sounded again. It sounded closer now. She still didn't spin around to see if somebody was sneaking up on her. She concluded that it was the shuffling of boots taking yielding steps across the wood floors of the Treehouse. Her mind did not calm, since she was not certain of the information she led her mind to believe. After all, at one in the morning, what sensible person would still be wearing boots?

The shuffling stopped, and a familiar voice spoke. "Oh, Numbuh 5. I didn't realize you were up."

Slowly but surely, Numbuh 5 felt the longer gap between each heartbeat, and her muscles relaxed. She turned around to see Numbuh 1 standing between the kitchen and the room behind him.

"Sorry if Numbuh 5 woke ya," she said quickly.

"No, that's okay. I was already awake."

There was an uncomfortable silence as Numbuh 1 took a seat. Numbuh 5 looked at her cereal, watching it turn soggy.

"Um, did ya want anythin'?"

"Hm?" he murmured. "Oh, yes, please. Cereal's fine."

She smiled and whispered, "'Kay," as if to herself. She got an extra bowl and spoon for her leader.

Numbuh 1 gazed into his lap, where his thumbs were grappling against each other. Now was the perfect time to inquire. But the moment told him that he should not just abruptly carry up the subject. It was inappropriate. And things seemed awkward enough already.

The dark-skinned girl brought two bowls over to the table, sliding one over to Numbuh 1. He silently thanked her with his facial expression. She nodded, welcoming him, and took her seat at the table, on the left side of it, next to her long-time friend.

"Couldn't sleep either, huh?" Numbuh 1 questioned.

Numbuh 5 nodded, keeping her dreary eyes on her Rainbow Munchies. "Bad dream," she responded simply. She looked at him, suddenly somewhat befuddled. "I'm guessin' you had trouble sleepin' too?"

Numbuh 1 shrugged, unaware of what she meant. "Well…" It took a little bit of time for Numbuh 1 to realize precisely what she'd recognized about his clothing. He grabbed his red turtleneck, pulled slightly, and let it sag back onto his body, chuckling. "Oh, that. I was thinking about things, and I guess I forgot."

She raised an eyebrow. "Ya _forgot…_" she said dryly.

"Well, not _forgot._ I guess you could say…" He suddenly went timid. "Never mind."

Numbuh 5 grinned at him, obviously amused.

He dreaded asking her, knowing it would most likely make her feel insecure. So he didn't. Instead, the mood of ironic humor was erased as his head was skewed downward, his expression shadowed and directed toward the bowl of Rainbow Munchies before him.

She tilted her head, trying to catch a small glace of those eyes beneath the dark shades. "Somethin' botherin' ya, Numbuh 1?"

"No, of course not." He could tell that he sounded nervous. "Why?"

"Well, you've been acting kind 'a weird since Mark got here, 'specially around Mark, ya got angry at us 'cause Numbuh 3 was sick, ya practically retreated from the mission without us, ya _forgot_ to get dressed, and to top it all off, now your in another world." Numbuh 5 slanted her head even more so she could get a better view of his face. "What's been on yo mind lately?"

A deep sigh escaped Numbuh 1's throat. He remained silent for a while as he obliviously gazed down at his midnight snack.

It took him too long to speak, so Numbuh 5 decided that she would take a guess. "Is it Mark that's buggin' ya?" Though it wasn't exactly a question, Numbuh 5 now chose to wait for a response, or even a small nod.

He shook his head, not necessarily to deny it; but at the same time, he hoped that was the impression she got. "Listen, I…" He stopped. "I don't mean to make it seem like a big deal, because it's not, really. I guess I'm just having a bad week. I'm sorry if I'm taking it out on you guys."

"It's no big. We're just worried 'bout ya."

Numbuh 1 raised his brow. "We?" he inquired. "The others have brought this up, too?"

She shrugged. "No, not really. But, ya know, generally speakin'…"

At her tension, he chuckled. "Thanks for your concern. But, really, don't worry about me. Let's just get through this week."

"'Sounds good." She got to her feet. "Did ya want Numbuh 5 to take that from ya?"

It took him only a second to figure out she was referring to the half-eaten cereal in front of him. "_Oh_, right. If you don't mind."

She sent him a knowing smirk.

_Of course she doesn't mind, stupid,_ he reminded himself.

Numbuh 5 took his bowl and, along with hers, slowly and carefully placed them in the sink, obviously hoping not to make too much sound in fear of waking the others. For a moment, Numbuh 1 remained seated at the kitchen table, as if waiting for her to return. But she would be retreating to her bedroom once she was finished. He knew that very well. He became ashamed of himself. Cowardly lion.

The dark skinned girl turned off the tap. "Ya comin' t' bed?"

"Hm? Um, no, I think I'll stay up a little while longer."

"All right. Try not t' stay up _too_ late."

"I won't."

"Well, g'night, boss."

"Good night, Numbuh 5."

"_Only five more days, Nigel. Only five more days._"

…**Transmission Interrupted…**

* * *

_Feelings are not supposed to be logical. Dangerous is the man who has rationalized his emotions._


	9. Rainbow Monkey

**…Continuing Transmission…**

"Everybody, please pass last night's homework up to the front of the room, and ready for me to collect," Ms. Simon insisted cheerfully.

Numbuh 4, seated at the very back, tapped the boy in front of him on the shoulder. "_Pst_!" he hissed. "'Ey, Numbuh 2. Can Ah borrow yo homework for a sec?"

Numbuh 2 sent him a glace over his shoulder, his expression grim, still searching through his desk for his own homework. "As _if_. You've seriously aught'a finish your own for once." Finally, he managed to fish out his own piece of paper which was his assignment. He passed it up to girl in front of him, and she took it to pass to the boy in front of her, and so forth.

"Aw, come on," he whined, resting his chin on his desk. "Ah'm dyin' back here. Ya think Ah can handle another _F_? If this keeps up, Ah'll be all th' way down to a _Z_ before ya know it."

"Another reason you should _finish your homework_," Numbuh 2 asserted. "You're just lucky these marks don't go on our academic records."

The Aussie moaned in distress in attempt to make Numbuh 2 feel sorry for him.

"Why don't you make up another excuse? That worked last time, and every other time."

Numbuh 4 lifted his head up off the desk, and a goofy smile replaced his phony agonized expression. "Hey, yeah! 'Kay, let's see." He trailed off in thought. "Hm… No, Ah told her Ah broke my hand two days ago. Uh… Nope, Joey gettin' sick was last week. Think, Numbuh 4, _think_."

Numbuh 2 rolled his eyes.

At that moment, to Numbuh 4's relief, a loud bell rang loudly throughout the Gallagher Elementary school building. Instantly, everybody was to their feet and squeezing past each other to get out of the room as quickly as possible.

"And don't forget, class," Ms. Simon called out over the sound of scrambling and chatting of apprentices. "Your book reports on 'Romeo and Juliet' are due on Monday." By then, the class was nearly empty. She sighed and began to do a reproduction of the story. "Romeo, _Romeo_. Where for _art_ thou, Romeo…" she sang dreamily, nose in the air, hands clamped together in front of her.

Numbuhs 2 and 4 left the classroom blended in with the herd of students.

"Ah'm tellin' ya," Numbuh 4 proclaimed. "Th' day Ah leave this school, everyone's gonna remember me for my talent in gettin' away with incomplete homework. Honestly, don't ya think Ah'm gifted?"

"Yeah. It must be your irresistible charm," Numbuh 2 replied, witty sarcasm implied.

The Aussie nodded. "Well, what else can ya expect? These muscles don't form themselves, ya know."

They turned a corner, and then they stopped. Numbuh 2's expression showed slight surprised, and Numbuh 4 just cocked an eyebrow. Their minds pushed out all of the knowledge they'd just received in Ms. Simon's class and replaced it with perplexity.

Mark noticed them as well, much less surprised. "Oh, hey, you guys," he said. Hanging from his shoulder was a bag, but not a backpack.

However, being almost completely insensible of the discomfort in the situation, Numbuh 4 slapped on a smile. "'Ey Mark, what's goin' on?" he zealously said. He approached him with self-assurance, fist held in front of him in preference of the modern greeting. The Italian complied with his own fist.

Numbuh 2, still a little confused, came up to him. "Not that your not welcome or anything, but what the heck are you doing here? I thought I heard Numbuh 1 say that-"

"Oh, don't worry. I won't be staying long. It's just that Numbuh 3 contacted me over the P.I.P.E.R. and asked me to drop off her Stay-In-School Rainbow Monkey." He pulled out a yellow Rainbow Monkey with a pair of round glasses resting on its face and a green backpack hanging from its shoulders.

The Aussie huffed. "Typical Kuki-ness."

"You'd better hurry. Numbuh 1's pretty strict when it comes to rules. Plus, you know, you don't have to do things like that for Numbuh 3," Numbuh 2 explained. "Like, when I was staying home from school because I was sick, Numbuh 3 called me up during lunchtime and asked me to pick up her Chow-Time Rainbow Monkey and bring it back to the treehouse because he got a _stomach ache_."

Mark laughed. "Well, all you have to blame for that is the lunch lady. They should seriously start checking whether the food is raw or not."

"Tell me about it! That new Chilidog stand downtown? Don't even _try_ it! The dog was practically still _wagging_!" Suddenly, Numbuh 2 was cackling uncontrollably. "Get it? _Wagging_!" He only notched up his hysterical laughter.

Numbuh 4 moaned with disturbance. To his astonishment, Mark decided to chuckle along with him. "Good one, Numbuh 2.

"And don't worry about the whole thing, you guys." Mark held up the Rainbow Monkey to view it more clearly. "I've got nothing better to do anyway. Besides, who can survive without a Stay-In-School Rainbow Monkey by your side?"

Numbuh 4, even being the naïve one, recognized the comical tease in his accent. He took the Rainbow Monkey from Mark's hands. "Ah don't get these things," he explained. "Ah mean, it's just a cruddy doll with clothes."

"I don't know, Numbuh 4. Who knows? You might grow into its huggable cuteness."

As Numbuh 2 taunted, the Aussie noticed a small circular red sticker where the bellybutton of the monkey was supposed to be. It had in white capital letters reading, "Press Me." Being the curious boy he was, he decided to give it a try. His finger pressed right into the Rainbow Monkey's bellybutton. Instantly, regret took over.

The Rainbow Monkey spoke loudly through the hall filled with students and even a few teachers. "_Its fun to learn! Do you want to sing the ABCs_?"

Numbuh 4 gasped. Kids in the hallways began to chuckle quietly and whisper to one another, pointing at him. The blonde boy blushed and hid the Rainbow Monkey behind his back. "Eh…Ah don't know who said that," he assured. This just made the kids silently giggle even more.

"_A, B, C, D, E, F, G…!_" sang the Stay-In-School Rainbow Monkey from behind him.

Numbuh 4 desperately attempted to muffle its voice. Ignoring the crowd of students, he turned his back to everybody and began to strangle the doll. "Shut up, ya stupid doll!" he shouted at him. The Rainbow Monkey did not comply, as it continued to sing, "_…H, I, J, K…_"

Numbuh 2 could not hold in the laugh that he did not even bother to try and hold in. However, his chortles altered as he caught sight of who else had heard and seen Numbuh 4's words and actions.

"Numbuh 4! How could you?"

Numbuh 4 turned around. He was frozen in the position of his hands tightly around the Stay-In-School Rainbow Monkey. The doll only sustained its singing, "_…L, M, N, O, P…!_" loudly. He saw Numbuh 3 at the end of the hallway, accompanied by Numbuhs 1 and 5. She was tapping her foot, the hint of anger growing in her eyes, as she stared at him.

"Leave Stay-In-School Rainbow Monkey alone!" she cried at him.

He did not even attempt to restrain gentleness towards the situation. "Yo cruddy Rainbow Dorky won't stop talkin'!" he shouted. "It ain't _my_ fault!"

"…_T, U, V…!_"

"Ah know my alphabet, ya cruddy monkey!"

Numbuh 3 stomped her way towards, her fist clenched by her sides, and a look that set a warning. "Numbuh 4! That is _not_ nice!" she shouted at him. As soon as the Rainbow Monkey was within reach, she snatched it away from Numbuh 4. She gave the doll a quick hug as he concluded the alphabet with the letters, "_W, X, Y, and Z!_" The Japanese operative then sent a small glare towards her blonde teammate. "Now apologize to Stay-In-School Rainbow Monkey," she exclaimed.

"What?" Numbuh 4 demanded in irritated astonishment. "_No_ way! Ah'm _not_ gonna apologize to a stinkin' Rainbow Donkey!"

"It's Rainbow _Monkey_!" She was practically screaming now. "And you're going to _apologize_, and you are going to be nice about it! _Understand_?" Her voice did not calm down one single bit. She held the doll in his face.

Numbuh 4, somehow, without moving his head an inch, managed to slide his eyes to face Numbuh 3's angry ones. In a dangerously low tone, he responded, "No."

Numbuh 3 took in a rapid breath. Her eyebrows lifted quickly. Her eyes grew three sizes bigger, until they reflected a small white light that glowed with the melancholy coming from her heart.

When Numbuh 4 was angry, he never had any regret for his responses. But somehow, this time, an awkward feeling overwhelmed him. Something he would never experience for anybody else in the same way.

Tears slowly overflowed the rim of her eyes. She held the Stay-In-School Rainbow Monkey close to her chest.

"Eh," Numbuh 4 began. He rubbed the back of his head, pondering on whether he should maintain his dignity in the crowd of students and hurt Numbuh 3's feelings, or say one or two small words to make Numbuh 3 her happy-go-lucky self again, and at the same time, destroy his pride.

Both choices seemed unreasonable. But he went with his second instinct.

Just before Numbuh 3 turned away, Numbuh 4 stuttered, "Ah'm sorry."

The Japanese girl looked up at him, snuffling a couple of times. "Really?" she stuttered, softly.

"Yeah, Ah guess," he responded, keeping his eyes on the fascinating tiles below his feet. "Ah never meant ta yell, anyway."

Numbuh 3 smiled once again, and the tears still trickling down her cheeks seemed to evaporate into the air. Even the Rainbow Monkey somehow brightened up the large grin on its face. A small cry of glee escaped her lips as she threw her arms around him. "It's okay!" she declared with hinted happiness. Her arms around him tightened because of Numbuh 4's slight struggling.

A loud chorus of, "Aw," sounded through the hallways. It was then that Numbuh 4, over Numbuh 3's shoulder, managed to catch a glimpse of the crowd of students that had formed around them. His eyes widened only for a second. Then the expression instantly turned into a glare. "Do ya _mind_?" He shouted. They all scattered, excluding Numbuhs 1, 2 and 5.

Numbuh 1 made a fake cough to bring back the attention of the rest of the team to Numbuhs 3 and 4. "All right, you two. Now that that's settled…Numbuh 3, do you mind telling me why you have your Rainbow Monkey here after I specifically told you not to bring it?"

Numbuh 4 was released and too caught up in recovering his steady breathing. Numbuh 2, however, froze in his spot. He turned towards Mark's original location. It didn't take him too long to learn that he was not there, nor was he anywhere in sight.

Before Numbuh 3 could reply, the 2x4 technology officer cut in. "Uh…actually, Numbuh 1, _I_ brought it with me to school," he stated. "Sorry, I…uh…I guess I grabbed it instead of my textbook by mistake."

"You accidentally grabbed a soft, fluffy doll instead of a hard, solid textbook?" Numbuh 5 claimed in a questionable tone.

Numbuh 1 raised his brow at Numbuh 2.

"Um…yeah," he stated, unsuccessfully as confidently as he could. "Well, you know me." A nervous laugh came through as he purposely slapped his head with the edge of his palm. Just looking at Numbuh 1's firm expression weakened him.

Numbuh 3 did not catch on to what Numbuh 2 was trying to do. "But I called-"

Numbuh 2's quick reaction startled all four of them. He practically leaped at the Japanese girl and covered her mouth with his hand, productively keeping her temporarily silent. "Uh, she _called_ me over the PIPER in class so I could return it. Right, Numbuh 3?"

She looked at him. He was staring at her over his shoulder, a look of plead in his goggle-covered eyes. Her guts told her that he was lying to Numbuh 1. But for some reason, her instincts told her to go along with it. After all, if she lied unknowingly now, she could always ask Numbuh 2 why she had to do so later.

She nodded her head in agreement.

Numbuh 1 kept his expression similar. "All right. But try and keep it out of sight, Numbuh 3. We don't want any of the evil teachers taking it away. I'm not in the mood to have another mission for a toy-rescue." Numbuh 1 turned around to head to his Mr. Frybingle's English class.

As soon as his back was turned, the two remaining male operatives swapped concerned glimpses.

The bell rang for next class.

* * *

"Ah can't believe ya, Numbuh 2!" Numbuh 4 exclaimed with hinted annoyance in his Australian-accented voice. "You, out of all people…"

"I didn't know what to do," Numbuh 2 responded, defending himself. "And it's not like _you_ were any help."

"Well at least Ah'm not a liar!"

"Yeah, like you never told a lie before."

Numbuh 3 only listened. She did not know how to approach the argument. After all, the two of them still hadn't explained to her the situation. So her head only moved back and forth to each statement coming out of them.

"Ah've never lied in my life!"

"You have so!"

"Have _not_!"

"Have _too_!"

"Have _not_!"

"Have _too_!"

She wasn't able to handle the curiosity anymore. Plus, the quarrel was beginning to hurt her ears. So she shrieked, "Will someone please tell me what the heck is going on?" The scream drained out the tones of Numbuhs 2 and 4's bickering, also staggering them somewhat.

Numbuh 4 was first to respond to her demand. "_Ah'll_ tell ya what's goin' on!" he shouted. He pointed forcefully at Numbuh 2. "Hoagie Liar Pants lied ta Numbuh 1!"

"I had to," Numbuh 2 retorted. "Mark would have been in hugetrouble if I told Numbuh 1 that _he_ brought the Rainbow Monkey."

"So he _did_ bring Mr. Stay-In-School Rainbow Monkey. I knew it!" For a moment, Numbuh 3 remained ignorant to the fact that Numbuh 1 was not told the truth about the doll. She kept herself rather busy assembling the pieces of who was the actual culprit.

Numbuh 2 reserved his self-protective stance. "I don't see the big deal. So I lied to Numbuh 1 about who got the Rainbow Monkey. So what? It's not like it's going to affect us in the future."

"Well-" Numbuh 4 stopped is angry speech abruptly. His mind trailed off. "Ah guess that's true."

"It is true! And even if Numbuh 1 ever did find out, Mark will probably be gone by then. So we wouldn't have to defend him."

Numbuh 4 cocked an eyebrow. "Defend 'im? Why would ya think ya need t' defend him?"

Numbuh 2 shrugged. "I don't know. I guess I just do."

"From what?"

He thought, and the conclusion was nervewracking.

"Numbuh 2, since when is Numbuh 1 a threat?"

**...Transmission Interrupted…**

* * *

_Life can be found only in the present moment. The past is gone, the future is not yet here, and if we do not go back to ourselves in the present moment, we cannot be in touch with life._


	10. Frank's Pizza Parlor

**…Continuing Transmission…**

A knock.

That was becoming too common for her liking. Whatever happened to being rude and just entering without permission? The low energy within her rested body kept her on the comfort of her bed. "Who is it?" she said, lacking interest and curiosity.

The door shifted open, only slightly. Mark's head appeared in place of the gap. "Hi," said the head.

"Hey, Mark," she replied, fatigue melting away at the familiar face. "C'mon in."

The head complied by moving into the bedroom, revealing his body clothed with jeans, a black T-shirt and sneakers.

Her book no longer remained a priority to her, and so she closed it on top of a small bookmark. "What's up?"

"Nothing, really," he answered in an incomplete manner. "Actually, I'd been meaning to ask you something."

"What's that?"

His facial expression displayed discomfort and uncertainty. Nonetheless, the deep voice of his apprehended its usual sturdy tone. "I mean, I don't know if you would be comfortable with this or not, and I know it's kind of out-of-the-blue…" he slipped his hands into his pockets. "But, um… I was wondering. Are you…" Another pause. "Do you have any plans for Friday?"

She'd heard that kind of line so many times in movies and TV shows. Numbuh 4 constantly refused to see to them. He called them '_cruddy chick flicks'_. It was almost humorous how she seemed to automatically know. For about a second or two, she hung about in consideration. "I dun think so," she answered. Just to tease him.

Mark seemed hopeful. "Oh, good." He smiled that lovely smile the team fell for. "I was wondering if you would like to do something Friday evening. You know, just so what we can get to know each other a little more. Perhaps take a break from the KND."

"Man, you soundin' like a Kid Next Door already."

He chuckled lightly, still awaiting her answer.

"Sounds good. Numbuh 5'd like that."

"Really?" His uneasiness turned to pure ecstasy. "That's _great_. Is dinner at _Papa Razzi's _all right?"

Numbuh 5 beamed at him. His eagerness seemed to bring out the kid within that was dying to come out of him. His eyes – those beautiful brown eyes that seemed to always reflect light shone even brighter. She'd always hear people say that the eyes are the window to the soul. Finally, after searching constantly for proof, she finally believed it to be true. She laughed for no apparent reason after having sensed his joy. The fact that he wasn't _too_ eager, to the point where it was just a little creepy, and had that hint of softness still dwelling in his heart was very pleasant.

"That's good for me. How's seven sound?"

* * *

"'Ey, Numbuh 2. Whose turn is it ta get dinna'? Ah'm starvin' like crazy here."

A loud banging sound came forth with a yelp to follow as Numbuh 2 knocked his head painfully on the top part of the machine while in attempt to crawl out from under it. He finally came into view from beneath the shadow of the mechanism, one hand rubbing the top of his head compassionately and the other holding a wrench. "I don't know. What time do we usually eat?"

"Ah dun know. Like, six, or somethin'."

Numbuh 2 looked at his watch. "It's six fifteen now." He sat up and, within a second or so, caught Numbuh 4's mystified expression. The pilot sighed with tranquil hopelessness. "Meaning it's been fifteen minutes after our normal dinnertime."

"Well then what are we waitin' fo'?" he demanded. "Let's eat!"

"Eat what? It's somebody's turn to plan." Numbuh 2 stood and wiped the grease off of his arm with a stained white rag.

Numbuh 4 huffed and walked in the other direction. "Let's make it _my_ turn. C'mon, we're havin' pizza."

"Can't argue there," he called and went after him, a grease stain clearly visible on the back side of his pants.

The blondest operative marched speedily down the hallway until reaching Numbuh 3's room, Numbuh 2 follow close behind. He pushed away the curtain covering the girl's doorway and walked in. Numbuh 2 was about to follow until the curtain was released in his face. "Hey!" he squealed, startled.

"C'mon, Numbuh 3. We're goin' ta _Frank's Pizza Parlor_."

Numbuh 3 hushed at him strictly. "_Shh_! You'll wake up Benjamin," she whispered. Numbuh 4 cocked an eyebrow, noticing two Rainbow Monkeys, one green and one orange, standing over an even smaller Rainbow Monkey, that one being purple.

"Forget yo dolls! Ah'm so hungry, Ah can eat them!"

"You wouldn't _dare_!"

Numbuh 2 eventually managed to wrestle the curtain off of him. "Can we hurry? I swear my stomach's going to start munching on my organs."

"Since when d' _you_ play th' organ?"

"Oh! It's Numbuh 1's turn to plan dinner. Shouldn't' we ask _him_ where he wants to go?"

Numbuh 4 pretended to consider. "Lemme think about that."

Although he knew that his Australian friend was going to retort with an obvious 'no,' Numbuh 2 quickly decided to cut into his shameful comeback. "How about I go ask him?"

"Okay, and I'll go let Numbuh 5 know. Numbuh 4, you can go get Mark. This is going to be so much fun!"

Numbuh 4 soon found himself alone in Numbuh 3's room after the other two ran out. He looked around her room, staring awkwardly at the dolls lying in various places. He cringed slightly, sounding a disgusted moan, and rushed out after Numbuhs 2 and 3.

* * *

Numbuh 1 stared up at the outsized monitor displaying before him. In white letters, it blinked, 'END TRANSMISSION.' If he weren't so drained of his energy, his fist would have probably rammed right into the computer panel. Occasionally, Numbuh 1 would reach his irrational side and blame Numbuh 65.3 on his lack of providing missions. This wasn't one of those times.

"Oh, this is ridiculous," he affirmed to the air surrounding him. "I don't need to prove anything to my team. I should know better than that." He sat down in a tiny stool placed beside a small desk. "_They_ should know better."

Guilt overwhelmed him as he found himself blaming his problems on his teammates once again. He buried his face in his hands. "Oh man, everything is so messed up." _You don't need this pressure, Numbuh 1_, said a voice inside of him. After about a moment or two of just gazing at the blackness of his palms pressed to his face, he decided to bring light to his eyes by looking up at the doorway. "I've got to talk to them. Talking always works things out." He got to his feet. "Well, it often does in those old sitcoms, anyway."

The Sector V leader sauntered his way towards the room in which they were often found spending their free time. Odd thing was that the room was empty. Nobody was sitting before the video game system, knobbing wildly at the controllers in hopes of winning the game. The couch on which Numbuh 5 was caught reading or Numbuh 3 playing with a doll was vacant. Seeing the room unfilled, Numbuh 1 felt as if the whole Treehouse was deserted. And that wasn't always the reaction he got.

At the moment, he did not care as much as he would have. Instead he flopped down haphazardly on the little green couch with the remote and clicked on the television. It was now _his_ turn to take a break, whether he like it or not.

* * *

Numbuh 4 entered the guest bedroom with casualty and keenness. "Hey, Mark. We're goin' for pizza. Ya wanna come?"

He was quickly silenced by the sight of Mark sitting upright on his bed with a cordless phone at his ear. The Italian glanced over his shoulder to get a good look as to who had rushed into his bedroom so eagerly. "Oh, sorry. I have to go. I'll talk to you tonight." Without a goodbye to the recipient, Mark pushed a button on the phone, ending the conversation. He turned to Numbuh 4. "Sorry about that. Pizza, you say?"

"Yup, at _Frank's Pizza Parlor_."

Mark shrugged. "I've never been there."

"Really?" Numbuh 4 inquired as if everybody in the world has had pizza at _Frank's Pizza Parlor_. "You'll love it. Other than tha hundred-year-old guy that's been workin' there for, like, a hundred years, tha pizza's great. So, ya wanna come?

"Sure, I'd love to. I'll be ready in a second."

A low rumble sounded throughout the large room, practically echoing in their ears. Numbuh 4 placed his hand over his stomach and threw a stare over his shoulder. "Numbuh 2, let's go! Ah swear ma stomach's about t' explode!" He rushed out of the room.

Mark looked down at the open notebook in front of him resting helpfully on the mattress. He shut it and slid it under a pile of books on the floor near the bed.

* * *

"All right, you guys. Let's go," Numbuh 5 called anxiously just outside the Treehouse. She glanced at her watch. "It's six thirty already."

"What the heck is taking them so long?" Numbuh 2 demanded, sitting on the curb. "I mean, how long does it really take to…"

He trailed off when he saw Numbuh 4 come through the doorway, in his hands about a dozen candy bars. Numbuh 3 came up behind him, holding three of her own chocolate bars. "Okay, we're ready!" she said cheerfully.

Mark chuckled from beside Numbuh 2.

Numbuh 5 placed her hands on her hips. "Just what do ya think you're doin'?"

Numbuh 4 gave her an innocent look.

She snatched two candy bars away from him. "Don't go thinkin' you're gonna eat all those by yourself."

"Nuh _uh_!" the Aussie whined. "Get your own."

"Guys, come on. Be reasonable," Numbuh 2 stated firmly. He took three chocolate bars. "We'll split them."

"We should probably get going before it gets too late," Mark pointed out.

Numbuh 3 nodded excitedly. "I'll go get Numbuh 1."

Numbuh 2's eager expression melted away and was replaced with disquiet. "Oh, um… I don't think he's coming."

"What d' ya mean ya dun think he's comin'?"

"I mean he's not coming."

"Why not?" Numbuh 5 questioned.

Numbuh 2 began to unravel the candy bar. "I heard him talking to Numbuh 65.3. He was, like…asking for missions or something."

"What else is new?" Numbuh 4 muttered.

"I don't know. He seemed kind of busy. I didn't wanna bother him. Besides, we can always bring him the leftovers when we get back."

Numbuh 5 sighed edgily. "Well, we ain't gonna _have_ pizza if y'all are stuffin' yo faces with candy right now." She quickly seized the candy bar away from Numbuh 2 before it managed to reach his famished mouth. "At least save 'em for later."

Numbuh 4's stomach growled the hundredth time that evening.

* * *

An hour passed, and the cartoon he was blankly watching ended. Another hour went by and the reality show special finished as well. His attention span of just staring at a giant flickering screen without paying attention seemed to come to a closing stage also.

He checked his strangely put-together watch. _Eight o'clock._ The others still hadn't decided to come into the room. Perhaps they knew that he was there and were trying to avoid him. If that was the case, he wasn't going to wait for them. He was going to do what he hadn't done for too long: eat.

Numbuh 1 went to the kitchen. The hollowness somehow managed to distress him slightly. When walking in, he had a small bit of hope he would catch Numbuh 2 at the table, munching away on an animal byproduct of some sort, or Numbuh 3 having a bowl of Rainbow Munchies. But there were not there, and Numbuh 1 was not going to make a big deal about it.

Swinging open the refrigerator door, he pulled out a soda. Then he went to the cabinet and grabbed a bag of potato chips. "'Might as well stay healthy today," he said when he observed the label on the bag reading '_No Trans-Fat!_'

He took a seat in the same place as he was at one o'clock this morning with his soda and chips. He opened the soda with a bit of finger-pinching struggle, arbitrarily finding it humorous how he could lift a Senior Citizombified Numbuh 2 up off the ground and still find it somewhat difficult to open a can of soda. Numbuh 1 listened to the loud fizz break the silence surrounding him. As soon as the bubbling in the soft drink died down, he brought his lips to the brim of the can and tilted the top toward him. The cool, tingling liquid became present to the inside of his dry mouth.

Right there and then, Numbuh 1 wondered if the others had eaten dinner without him. He would have known if they had for the past two hours; the kitchen was not far from where he was watching television. How much earlier could they have had dinner?

He let the fret slither away. Even if they had eaten, it must have been a while. After all, Numbuhs 2 and 4 _do_ get hungry quickly.

_It would be a nice surprise for them,_ Numbuh 1 considered. _Plus I believe it _is_ my turn to plan dinner. Well, why not?_

He put his can of soda back down on the table and stood. _Numbuh 4 mentioned something about _Frank's Pizza Parlor_ the other day. Maybe they'd like some pizza._

Although he considered himself hopeless to be buying his teammates conviction back with pizza, he decided to do so anyway. He left the unopened bag of potato chips on the counter along with his mildly-drunken soda. With a couple of bucks in his pocket, in hope to be enough for at least two medium-sized pizzas, he impassively went out the door.

Numbuh 1 did not realize how hungry he really was until his stomach growled at him. He had been so preoccupied with all of the strange concealed thoughts and worries of his that he'd forgotten all about food. He felt that he wasn't even paying attention to the television shows that he'd been watching for two hours. Then another disturbing consideration came to his head: _What if the others know I'm gone and decide to eat dinner without me? What if they eat my potato chips?_ He shoved the contemplation away, lingering alongside optimism, which was often very hard for him. His blood seemed to cool back to normal temperature while the little organ in the left part of his chest slowed down in pumping. He relaxed. It was easier than he'd thought.

The calming down did not last long. As soon as he reached _Frank's Pizza Parlor _and looked through the glass windowpane, the boiling blood became present again, and his heart sped up in beating. The tension in his jaw set his lips to a grim line.

Supposedly, they were _too_ hungry.

Numbuh 1 readjusted his sunglasses so that they completely concealed his eyes. Breathing out his anxiety with one deep mouthful of air, he pushed the door to the pizza place open, naive of the ringing of the bell just above the entrance door.

"Enjoying your dinner?" he questioned his teammates happily munching on their pepperoni pizza slices with their new good friend.

Numbuh 2 froze in his position, his half-eaten slice held only inches from his open mouth. Numbuh 3 abruptly dropped her slice back onto the carton on their table, agape. Numbuh 5 slowly looked over her shoulder while Mark stared around her, halting their conversation.

It was only Numbuh 4 who did not sense the discomfort in the circumstance. "Numbuh 1, where've ya been? We've been waitin' for ya. Finally read th' note Numbuh 2 left ya, 'ey?"

"Uh, Numbuh 4," Numbuh 2 muttered, "I didn't write a note."

"Oh." He turned to his other side. "Tha one Numbuh 3 left ya, then?"

The Japanese girl shook her head.

Numbuh 4 began to acquire a pale look on his face. "Anyone?"

Numbuh 5 and Mark shook their heads at the same time, tying a knot in Numbuh 4's stomach.

A small jangle sounded as Numbuh 1 moved his hand towards his view. Six coins rested in his hands. He clamped his fingers inward until his hand had transformed into a tight fist and looked up at the five kids at the table.

"How did you know we were here?"

Numbuh 2's inquiry did not deserve an answer; or so what Numbuh 1 believed at that moment. He responded anyway. "I didn't. I thought you guys were hungry and decided to reward you with pizza for dinner for all your hard work. After all, it _was_ my turn to plan." He spoke that last statement trying to hint his annoyance as mildly as possible.

The others looked down into their laps.

"So, I'll see you back at the Treehouse then. Enjoy your pizza."

Without remaining there for a second longer in hopes of an apologetic reply from his team, he turned on his heel and walked out of the restaurant. He heard the bell at the top of the door make sound once again, along with one of his six coins dropping from his hand and onto the pavement outside the parlor. He heard it, but did not concern himself over it. It was just one coin.

**…Transmission Interrupted…**

* * *

_Every man has his own destiny: the only imperative is to follow it, to accept it, no matter where it leads him._


	11. Evening Consolation

…**Transmission Continued…**

"No, you go in!"

"No way! _You've_ known 'em longer! _You_ go!"

"Will you two keep it down? He'll hear ya."

Numbuh 4 kept his ear pressed to Numbuh 1's door. It had been an hour since their leader had discovered them at the pizza parlor; he didn't quite discern whether Numbuh 1 would hold this grudge for that long or not. "_Ah_ think Numbuh 2 should go since _he's_ tha one who didn't tell 'em."

"It was your idea to go out for dinner," Numbuh 2 argued. "And I didn't tell him 'cause he sounded busy."

Numbuh 5 massaged her temple with her middle and index finger. "Guys, it doesn't matter who goes. It's the matter of goin'."

"I'll bring in the pizza!" Numbuh 3 declared gleefully, holding up the pizza box containing their leftovers.

* * *

He knew, deep down inside, that it should not have been made into such a huge commotion. Dinner plans without checking with him, even though was downright embarrassing in ways anyone else would not comprehend, could be looked over as a scheme of leaving their leader in peace. Perhaps they were aware of the distress that aggrieved him for the past little while. Maybe, just maybe, they considered and felt his angst to the extent of their new friend.

Or, maybe not. Maybe they had no idea of the anguish Numbuh 1 had been feeling ever since the day Mark came into their Treehouse. He knew why. It was because they were too awestruck by the 'Great Ashlock.' The qualities that he detained were like no other operative Numbuh 1's sector had ever encountered; his benevolence and shrewdness were difficult to defy of him, since they took up a part of who this boy really was. Numbuh 1 struggled to recognize Mark as a good person who meant the best for both himself and the Kids Next Door.

He also knew that he had a hard time accepting certain things. There was no hesitation that this process would take a while. The patience in him would not withstand. Eventually, his edginess with Ashlock would find its way to the top again; he did not doubt it. But he didn't want to. He wanted to see him the way his teammates saw him. Why was it so hard for him?

"Hey, quit shoving!"

He didn't bother turning around, nor did he really have to. In the reflection of the glass window, he saw Numbuh 2's figure forcefully coming in through the ajar doorway. Two dark hands were pressed to his back, seemingly shoving him into the room. Numbuh 1, thankful for the window's reflecting ability, observed his companion turning back and sending a glare in the doorway's direction, his bottom lip protruded. Numbuh 3 followed behind him, holding a cardboard box that, as he supposed, was a pizza box.

Numbuh 1 remained silent.

Both Numbuhs 2 and 3 looked at each other, arguing with their gazes on who should approach him first. Numbuh 3 triumphed with her fire-eyed stare. After jumping slightly, he heaved a sigh of defeat and leisurely, cautiously walked to his leader facing the window. "Uh, Numbuh 1? We, uh…"

"We brought you some pizza!" Numbuh 3 exclaimed, holding up the pizza box.

He turned around. He knew he was being both irrational and very uncouth by keeping his back to them. His lips formed a weak smile, but a smile nonetheless. "Thanks. I _am_ a bit hungry." He didn't mean to make it sound like he was still upset about the situation. He very much hoped that it didn't come across as scorn.

Obliviousness obscured Numbuh 3 in a land of relief. "Oh, good! This is silly because the others thought you'd be all mad and sad because of the whole not-inviting-you-to-the-pizza-parlor thing, and how we didn't even bother to-" The rest came out muffled since Numbuh 2 frantically covered her mouth with his hand.

A tense chuckle of revival escaped his throat. "Yeah, she had a lot of soda. It kind of goes to her head."

Numbuh 3, his hand still over her mouth, pouted and put her fists on her hips.

"Don't worry about it, Numbuh 2," Numbuh 1 pronounced understandingly. "I know how difficult I've been about the situation. After all, you did muster up the courage to come in here, despite how unreasonable I was with you all."

Numbuh 2 removed his hand from Numbuh 3's face. He would have almost looked proud. But he did not risk snapping his leader. He was not good at sensing people's distress like Numbuh 5 was. He could not tell whether he was attempting to hide his emotions as he normally would. But she could deal with it later. Right now, all he had to do was help his friend maintain the level-headedness that he was and wasn't so good at keeping.

"So, um… Actually, we just came to apologize for before. We should have asked you. But you were kind of busy with Numbuh 65.3 and all, so I didn't know if I should bother you or not." He didn't realize that he was only defending himself until the pause that followed his comment.

Numbuh 1 smiled at him. "Its fine, Numbuh 2." He was now on his feet. "Let's just forget it ever happened, all right?"

The liberation of nerves finally overwhelmed Numbuh 2's body. He put his hand to the back of his head, rubbing it genially. "Great. Well, I guess we'll see you tomorrow."

"'Night, Numbuh 1!" Numbuh 3 exclaimed as she and her technology-smart companion turned to leave.

The bald boy held his grin. "See you in the morning."

It was a pointless response. The two of them had already hurried out of the room, looking rather pleased and reassured. Numbuh 1 deeply sighed as he collapsed onto his bed. He decided that he, at last, did something right today. He hated himself when he allowed his emotions to get the better of him. It was a mere trip to the pizza parlor. Numbuh 2 distinctively confirmed his reasoning for not asking him. The entire team knew that he preferred not to be bothered when working. And besides, they brought him pizza.

He looked at the pizza box placed at the foot of his bed. He _was_ a bit hungry.

* * *

"Numbuh 429, I thought I told you to fix that issue twenty-eight hours ago," a goaded blonde girl declared to the monitor before her.

The figure of a young boy with orange, frizzy hair and cheeks covered with freckles was displayed on the screen. He forced a laugh that demonstrated the obvious apprehension. "Sorry, Numbuh 362. But a new episode of _Days of Our Youth_ was airing. We didn't want to miss it. It was the season finale, you know."

Numbuh 362 raised her hand over her face and groaned, hinting her annoyance. "Just be sure to handle it before tomorrow night. The risk of making water gun fights illegal all throughout Iowa is absolutely forbidden for the Kids Next Door to just stand and watch. See if you can penetrate the local administration building tonight, and get back to me with your results tomorrow morning. End transmission."

The screen went black just after Numbuh 429 saluted her respectfully.

She rubbed her temple. "Why must Sector IO always…" She refused to continue. Her head ached, and she felt drowsy. A sigh sounded from her throat. She knew the things that would come her way as Supreme Leader. She expected it from the very beginning, even before she decided to give it a try; but, sometimes, things just got of her nerves. Who _wouldn't_ feel provoked at times with the enormous amount of pressure pushed upon them? That was the consequence. A necessary consequence, at that.

"Maybe if I just lie down for a second…" Again, she trailed off. She dragged herself across the room. Bags circled beneath her eyes.

A recognizable voice rang through from the hall. "Numbuh 362, _sir_. There's a modernized memo sent from-" When Numbuh 60 came into view just at the entrance, he ceased both his pace and his sentence swiftly. He lowered the slip of paper to his side and cocked his head. "Numbuh 362?" His voice now seemed unusually less strident.

"Yes, Numbuh 60. What is it?" she straightened her posture in hopes of persuading the boy that she was well alert.

Although he was clearly not convinced of this, he handed her the note, still keeping his eyes on her in a confused and bothered manner. "Um… A message from Sector V; it's an update on Mark Ashlock's progress as a transitory field operative."

Numbuh 362 scanned the words on the paper briefly. "So it is. I'll have to examine it a little later. Numbuh 65.3 needs me to file those mission reports on Sector D."

"It's kind of late, don't you think, mam? It's past eleven o'clock."

"Please, Numbuh 60. I don't need any parenting right now. All I need to worry about are these mission reports." She sat at her desk. "If I don't finish this tonight, I'm going to be heavily swamped tomorrow. And I don't even want to _think_ about homework." Her eyes surveyed the memo still in her hands for a few moments. "Hm. It turns out that Mark Ashlock is exceeding expectations."

"That's no surprise," Numbuh 60 declared. "He was exceptional during his training session. He's clearly done this kind of stuff before."

"Undoubtedly. Did Sector V mention anything about his technique? There's nothing here about what his specialty is considered to be."

"No, sir. They only sent this communication."

"That's fine. I'll contact them when-"

"Numbuh 362, sir!" A red-haired girl rushed into the room. In her hand just above her head, a piece of paper flapped as she rushed to the other side of the main room. "There's an urgent message from the Korean Kids Next Door. They say it's about last night's mission on sneaking in on a group of teenagers' sleepover party."

A yawn came forth as the Supreme Leader stood from her desk. She finally concluded, "All right, Numbuh 86. But after I take this, I'm off to bed."

While Numbuh 86 cocked her head, Numbuh 60 folded his arms across his chest and smirked.

* * *

Mark remained motionless in front of Numbuh 1's door. There were a limited amount of shots at this; he didn't want to blow it. He felt the bad impression that Numbuh 1 had towards him. It wasn't as if he was an idiot or anything. It was just the comfort zone between the two of them; there _was_ no comfort zone. Just a tense zone, along with a small obscured zone lingering via Numbuh 1's denial of feelings. He breathed in deeply. There was no point in thinking otherwise. He had to make peace with him. He did not wonder why there was no peace already, even though he knew he'd done nothing wrong.

He raised his clenched fist and knocked on the door. "Numbuh 1?"

He expected no response, and that's exactly what he got. However, instead of turning around and walking away, he continued. "I just wanted to talk to you, Numbuh 1. I'm rather concerned about certain things coming between us."

The sound of shuffling proceeded from the other side of the door. Within seconds, the door opened, and Numbuh 1 appeared in the doorway. His sunglasses were off, and he was barefoot. He still wore his red sweater and shorts. Anxiety and lethargy was evident in his expression.

"Hey there," Mark said cautiously, yet with confidence.

Numbuh 1 just stared at him, appearing slightly bewildered. "Hi," he said at last.

Mark coughed diffidently. "Um… Would you like to take a walk?"

The dazed feeling that engulfed Numbuh 1's thoughts for a moment besieged him entirely. Why he was alone, he wasn't too sure. Why he was alone in front of his doorway he was fully unsure of. After all, by talking to him, the team _did_ relieve of the stress brought upon them by his callous actions. Judging by Mark's expression, Numbuh 1 could have sworn that he'd looked concerned for him. That somehow came as a shock to him.

He did agree. To take a walk, that is. Pretty soon, he found himself strolling through the Treehouse corridors with Mark Ashlock.

"I was wondering," Mark began, "about your opinion on a few things."

"Like what?" he inquired, conscious of the answer.

Tension clearly dwelled in Mark's mind and confirmed in his voice. "About my staying in your Treehouse; I couldn't help but feel that you…you've been a bit awkward with me around. I'm not accusing you of anything, of course. Still, I just wanted to know if there's anything I can do to…" his voice grew faint for a second before he finished with, "…change your mind about me."

Numbuh 1 did not even pretend to be surprised by Mark's remark. He was well aware of the fact that he made his emotions very apparent with his bleak counters towards their skillful Cadet. And it was because of his selfish reasons that he himself did not completely comprehend yet.

"I know," he answered, "I've been acting like a total jerk. I'm really sorry, Mark. I don't…_think_ it has anything to do with you."

"What do you mean by that?"

He shrugged his shoulders and looked down at his striding feet. "It's just… I've been having this different interaction with my team. At least that's what it feels like."

"Oh." Mark waited.

"I mean, not that I'm blaming you whatsoever, but ever since you arrived, my teammates have been acting a little different. And when I say different, I mean…" He searched his mind. When he came to a conclusion, he was stunned himself. "I mean less trusting of me."

They slowed their pace after turning a corner in the hallway.

"You don't think they trust you?"

Numbuh 1 nodded.

"If you ask me, that's utter nonsense."

"Oh?"

"I don't know your team all that well, Numbuh 1. After all, I've only spent time with them a few days. But judging from the time I _have_ spent with them, I can sense the loyalty they share towards you. They look up to you as their leader – as their guide. Isn't that the responsibility you have? To guide them?"

Numbuh 1 nodded. "Well yeah, of course. But I feel like I haven't been doing that lately."

"So you believe it's _you_ that's changed. Not your team."

Realization came over him in a harsh, swift gust. Although that had occurred to him more than once, hearing those terms coming from Mark sort of helped him come to his senses. He _had_ changed. He was a lot more thin-skinned about a lot of small issues that should have just been left alone to belittle from their minds. He'd been like that before; on the other hand, it wasn't this bad. It was no wonder they hadn't bothered asking him to join them for a little fun. He _was_ no fun anymore.

Sure, he loved spending time with his teammates off missions. He loved having fun. Perhaps this was just a small stage in his life. Everybody has their off days. Only this time, instead of on missions, it was with the rest of his team. Nothing to worry about. It would pass, sooner or later.

"Yeah, I suppose you're right. I haven't really been myself this past little while."

"Oh, that shouldn't be a concern. Nobody's perfect. Besides, there must be a lot of pressure on you, what with another operative to take care of."

Numbuh 1 laughed, and he was surprised with himself for it. "Trust me; you're no handful. You're great with following instructions, and you seem to be able to take care of yourself."

"I try."

Eventually, they found themselves in the passageway of the Treehouse that lead to all of the kids' bedrooms. The moonlight poured through the windowpanes, creating a serene ambiance throughout their home. As Numbuh 1 and Mark slowed their pace, they walked into the moon's light, which cast long shadows of their figures.

"Anyway, I'm sorry if I've been causing you any grief," Numbuh 1 pronounced. "I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable staying here."

He waved it away. "It's no big deal. Everything is completely fine in my book. I could never ask for more from you."

A brief peace pervaded the boys' atmosphere, notwithstanding their footsteps on the floorboards. As this small period of silence progressed, Mark's words finally sank in. Numbuh 1 wanted to accept the fact that it was him. He wanted to convince himself that he was not being himself, and that he would surpass this small phase of his. Then he remembered that he always had a hard time accepting certain things. But something made Numbuh 1 feel strange. He knew that he was different. He just wasn't too sure how or even why.

Mark stretched his arms in front of him, twining his fingers while doing just that. "Well, I'm off to bed. It's been nice talking to you, Numbuh 1."

He nodded, somewhat blankly. "You too."

"See you in the morning."

That was a promise that he had no choice but to look forward to.

…**Transmission Interrupted…**

* * *

_No man is sane who does not know how to be insane on proper occasion._


	12. Eggs, Sausages and Suspicions

…**Continuing Transmission…**

"Good morning, Kids Next Door!" a young man's voice cheerfully shouted through the countless speakers set up all over Moonbase, dragging out the first word. "Rise and shiny, everyone! What a beautiful day it is down on earth, and an even more exciting day for all of us! A fantastic way to start off the holiday weekend! So up and at 'em, Kids Next Door! Get ready for a new day!"

As he spoke words of encouragement for Moonbase operatives, kids scrambled all over the place. Some of them were already dressed and to work. Some were splashing water from the running sink onto their faces, while some just checked their appearances in the mirrors. Several female operatives brushed and fixed their hair. Numbuh 59.89, a scrawny boy with brown, frizzy hair and freckles, squinted at himself in the mirror before slipping on a pair of round-framed glasses, giving himself a thumbs-up when he was able to see again.

Operatives were everywhere. Life was brought upon the Base. The darkness of space just outside did not affect their mood, for the powered lights brightened their home like a cloudless summer sky. Even for a group of kids hard at work, they all managed to gain joy and pride from the high-spirited atmosphere. They were at home here. Nothing in the world would make them regret that.

Numbuh 362, from behind her desk, had a fresh smile on her face when she glanced up. "Good morning, Numbuh 60."

"Looks like somebody had a good night's rest," Numbuh 60 stated, almost proudly.

She laughed. "It's a new day. A day to celebrate the freedom we share together as united kids. Plus, a day off of school. Why not be joyful?"

"Numbuh 362, mam!" Numbuh 65.3 exclaimed as he ambled up to her desk. "I need those mission reports filed on Sector D."

"All done, Numbuh 65.3," she pronounced. She then handed him a clipboard with a few slips of yellow paper attached to it. "I need you to deliver this message to the Sector V as soon as you can. Oh, and don't forget to contact Sector LA on account of those archives for their recent operations."

"Yes, mam; right away!" With that, he accepted the clipboard and was off.

The blonde girl seated herself in the large chair that was situated behind her. Her fellow operatives knew very well how vivacious she could get when she woke up on the right side of the bed. They enjoy these times since it helps motivate them. It isn't every time that the KND receive a leader that isn't too serious or too much of a goofball. Not that they could blame her for her bright mood. Who doesn't love a day away from school?

"Numbuh 60," she said to the boy still at her desk. "Would you mind asking Numbuh 86 to come see me?"

"Of course not, sir. I'll go find her."

"Thank you."

He strolled out of the room, passing various operatives running around, hard at work. A few male operatives waved to him as they went by each other with a simple "hello". Besides the Arctic Base, he felt most at home here. Not a lot of people feel at home on the moon. He was one of the lucky ones.

Once entering the elevator, he pushed the button that had the number 94 printed on it. Numbuh 86 never slept in, but her Moonbase bedroom was a pretty reasonable place to start his search on a holiday Friday morning. The small circular elevator reached its destination in due time, and the doors opened. The boy with an orange toque atop his head stepped out of the small space. He became acquainted with a lesser crowd of operatives, apparently only recently leaving their dormitory rooms. As he sauntered down the corridor, he mildly glanced in exposed dorm rooms as he passed by them, checking that there were no problems.

At last, he arrived at a specified dorm. "Numbuh 86," he called. His knuckles lightly tapped on the door.

Not having to wait another second, the clumsy hustling clearly sounded from the other side as he heard her accidentally bump a body part into a portion of hard furniture.

"Numbuh 86?" he called, his deep voice signifying the dubiousness. "Numbuh 362 sent me to get you." His fingers wrapped around the door knob at the side of the door. "She would like to see you." More hustling became quite clear. Without another report from his side, he turned the knob and leisurely pushed open the door.

At first, he had to blink a few times to make clear to himself that the scene he witnessed was real. Numbuh 86 was evidently struggling to get to her feet in time. She almost tripped on the small rectangular mat set on the floor just below her feet. Numbuh 60 observed the dark green cotton drawstring Capri and matching camisole. The table, which he supposed she'd bumped into, propped up a CD player. Numbuh 86 had a look of both horror and annoyance on her face.

"Are you…" He had to cover his mouth quickly to prevent the snicker that was dying to come out. When he uncovered it, he could not get rid of the smirk his lips shaped on his face. "Are you doing yoga?"

She gave him a disgusted look. "_No_, I am not doing _yoga_!" Her hand reached to press the eject button on her CD player, but she did not dare take her phony confident eyes away from him. "Why would you even _think_ something as stupid as that?"

He raised an eyebrow at her, still maintaining the pleased expression.

"It just goes to show what a stupid _boy_ would know," she continued. For some reason, she guessed that her propaganda would not convince him otherwise. But she didn't risk yielding. "I was just…trying on these new clothes. And it so happens that this _mat_ was my grandmother's."

"Right. Of course," he said, still smiling and obviously trying to hold in a laugh.

As she rolled up the mat, Numbuh 86 even decided to laugh herself. "Imagine; _me_, doing _yoga_. How ridiculous." She came up to the doorway as Numbuh 60 turned to leave so that she could change out of her 'new clothes'. "Tell Numbuh 362 that I'll be there in a second."

Numbuh 60 still hadn't gotten over the amusement he'd received with his discovery. "I'll inform her, mam."

Before he walked away, she stopped him by grasping his arm through the now-slightly ajar door. Her eyebrows had elevated until they were practically off her forehead. "Would you…um…" She swallowed. "Would you mind keeping this a secret?" Anybody could sense the apprehension from her voice. Thank goodness, for her, nobody but an old friend was around to hear it.

He grinned at her, his expression displaying mirth and cunning with a hint of empathy. "It'll be pretty hard, but you have my word."

* * *

Numbuh 2 took in one keen breath of the delectably-scented air through his nostrils. Periodically, he would wake up in the morning to the smell of eggs, bacon, sausages, pancakes, and all that. It was as if he was waking up in the heaven, except still living. Gradually, he continued to sniff the aroma until he found himself floating up off his bed, the blanket covering him up to his shoulders slipping down to just the lower half of his body. Once he was sitting upright, he heaved a sigh of pleasure.

"Mmmm…" he hummed. Within a second, he hopped out of his bed, which so happened to be in a jet plane sticking out of the wall, and slid down the ladder leading to the floor. His light blue pajamas with a cloud pattern flapped against his body as he zoomed downwards. Once reaching solid ground, he dashed out of his room.

Minimum time passed before his nose led him into the kitchen. "Good morning," he pronounced with glee.

"'Morning, Numbuh 2," Numbuh 3 replied, echoing his blissfulness.

As the 2x4 technology officer pulled out a seat at the kitchen table, he examined what he _thought_ he observed. Numbuh 3, in her usual extra-large violet nightshirt and smiling yellow slippers, worked unstintingly at the kitchen counter. Vigorously at work beside her was Numbuh 4, wearing his own orange footed pajamas with blue stitching at the zipper and sleeves. He was standing on a stool to meet the proper level of the counter.

Numbuh 3 turned around to look at him. "How do you like your eggs, Numbuh 2?"

He shook his head and blinked. "I'm sorry, but is Numbuh 4 _cooking_?"

"Yup! I'm teaching him how to make breakfast." She declared it as if it were the best thing in the world. "Pretty soon, I'll teach him how to make lunch, and then dinner, and then before you know it, he'll have his own restaurant and make buh-millions!"

"Why don't you just start by teaching him how not to burn toast?"

Numbuh 4 glowered at him over his shoulder. "Ah keep tellin' ya; it was tha cruddy _toaster's_ fault!"

"Eggs?" she asked again, holding up two eggs in one hand.

"Sunny-side up, please," he responded.

Numbuh 3 set the eggs on the counter next to a stove. "All right, Numbuh 4. Use the butter knife to carefully set the butter on the frying pan. Okay?" She handed him the butter knife. He took it and examined it with curiosity.

"Good morning, everyone," Mark contentedly proclaimed as he entered the kitchen. His maroon plaid flannel pajamas seemed to fit perfectly on his body. On his feet was a pair of navy slippers. He had a bright smile on his face. He seemed to be lightly sniffing the air. "Something smells really good."

"We're making breakfast," Numbuh 3 affirmed, keeping a sharp eye on the butter melting on the hot pan on the stove. Trusting the butter for a second, she glanced over her shoulder towards him. "Eggs?"

Mark nodded. "Please and thank you."

"Style?"

"Can you do omelets?"

"Sure can! Come show me what you want in it."

The Italian boy complied, coming up between where Numbuh 3 was at the stove-top and where Numbuh 4 was mixing. Mark glimpsed at the blonde operative forcefully mixing together egg yolks in a small bowl with a whisk. "Wow, Numbuh 4. I never realized you have such cookery skills."

"It's a given gift," Numbuh 2 responded, hinting comical sarcasm, soon after receiving a stuck-out tongue from Numbuh 4.

While Numbuh 3 corresponded to Mark's suggestions for omelet toppings and Numbuh 4 beat the eggs, Numbuh 2 found it an appropriate time to prepare the table for their mealtime. He went to the fridge and pulled out a carton of white milk. "Chocolate milk, anyone?" he inquired.

"Yes," the three of them said.

He looked at the carton of milk confoundedly before placing it back in the refrigerator, and then he pulled out the chocolate milk, closing the fridge door after it. Just as he set the chocolate milk carton on the table, Numbuh 5 walked in, looking rather lethargic.

"Hi ya, Numbuh 5!" Numbuh 3 exclaimed. "Want some eggs?"

For a moment, she looked into the kitchen, still reasonably drained and dazed. After a moment of just staring blankly into the room, she finally said, "Is that Numbuh 4, or is Numbuh 5 still asleep?"

Numbuh 4 huffed. "Fo' your information, _cooking_ so happens ta be a _manly_ activity. It takes muscles t' beat these eggs."

She pulled her blue robe more tightly over her body before tying it in place with the white filament belt. Her white slippers grazed against the floorboards as she sauntered to the kitchen dining table. It wasn't until she sat down that she realized that not everybody had yet persisted from her presence. "Mark, y'okay?"

He seemed to only freshly become conscious of his gazing and smiling. "Oh. Yes. Of course." Promptly, he turned back around.

"Man, Numbuh 1 must've had one heck of a night," Numbuh 2 announced, his back facing the non-empty kitchen doorway. "It's ten in the morning and he's still in bed."

"Hey, Numbuh 1," the Japanese girl unexpectedly cried.

Numbuh 1 quietly strolled into the kitchen. He looked dreadfully tired. Bags circled his eyes, and his red and white pajamas seemed lopsided on his body somehow. His bare feet were positioned awkwardly when he discontinued his pace for a moment. His back was a bit hunched. Despite his apparent fatigue, the mental awareness was just as, if not more, evident.

"Mornin', boss," Numbuh 5 said. "Rough night?"

"I couldn't sleep," he admitted. He lifted his sunglasses with the back of his hand, at the same rubbing his closed eye. With the other open eye, he observed something that made him believe that he was finally asleep. "Is Numbuh 4 cooking?" he questioned, pointing a finger at the blonde operative at the kitchen counter.

"Okay, that's just gettin' annoyin' now," Numbuh 4 spoke out.

"Want some eggs, Numbuh 1?"

"Maybe a little later, Numbuh 3. Right now, I'm…" Suddenly, he felt small vibrations on his right wrist. "Hm?" He lifted his arm to get a better view of the fob watch wrapped around his wrist, only to find it flashing a red light. Instantly, the bags under his eyes seemed to disappear. "Everybody report to the briefing room as soon as you can. There's an urgent message from Global Command."

With that, he rushed out, the operatives remaining looking somewhat befuddled after him. They turned their gazes towards each other.

Mark sat down at the dining table just as Numbuh 2 claimed, "Well, he said 'as soon as we can'. And breakfast _is_ the most important meal of the day." Coming back from closing the top cabinet, he vigilantly set his armful of glasses on the table next to Mark. Numbuh 5, in the intervening time, looked towards where Numbuhs 3 and 4 were still hard at work preparing breakfast.

"All right, Numbuh 4," Numbuh 3 said watchfully, handing him an egg. "Now gently tap the egg on the side of the table."

Numbuh 4 examined the egg inquisitively before smashing it against the counter rim, causing the yolk to spill out on the countertop and floor along with tiny pieces of eggshell. He held out the remains of the crushed egg in his hand for Numbuh 3's viewing. For a second, she just looked at his hand, expression plain.

Numbuh 5 shrugged. "Breakfast might take a while."

* * *

"Calling Sector V. Come in, Sector V."

Numbuh 1 saluted the screen in which Numbuh 65.3 was put on view. "Numbuh 1, here. What's the message, Numbuh 65.3?"

The information officer briefly browsed Sector V's briefing room. "Um…where's the rest of your team?" he inquired.

"Right here."

"Wait up!"

Numbuh 1 spun around at the sound of his teammate's voices. A grin brightened his face when he spotted Numbuhs 2, 5 and Mark entering the room. Bafflement besieged him faintly for a moment when he did not see Numbuhs 3 and 4 follow.

"So, what's up?" Numbuh 2 asked the screen, coming up beside his leader.

Numbuh 65.3 held up a clipboard. "Numbuh 362 has requested me to give you this memorandum. Global Kids Next Door Command has been concerned with the lack of action from Father for quite some time."

"He's right," Numbuh 5 corroborated. "He's been real quiet lately."

"That goes for the Delightful Children, too," Numbuh 1 added. "Are there any considerable reasons Moonbase has come up with as to why?"

"We suspect that they're planning some sort of scheme. But that's why I've contacted you. Numbuh 362 wants you to penetrate the Delightful Children's mansion. See if you can figure out what they're up to." With that said, the transmission ended between him and Sector V, confirming so with the words 'End Transmission' appearing on the screen.

Numbuh 5 was pondering. "Come t' think of it, _none_ of the villains have been around for a while."

"Yeah," Numbuh 2 agreed. "Even the ice cream men haven't been going down the streets for over a week." He turned to Numbuh 1. "Do you think they're up to something, Numbuh 1?"

"Hm…" Numbuh 1 considered the plain evidence declared by his teammates. "I'm not too sure, Numbuh 2. There's only one way to find out. All of you meet me in my room to discuss the plan."

A small rumble unexpectedly made noise. Everybody looked at Numbuh 2's stomach, including Numbuh 2, until the minuscule growling came to a stop. The hungry operative laid his hands over his belly, laughing lightheartedly. "After breakfast?" he suggested.

Numbuh 1 nodded. "After breakfast."

…**Transmission Interrupted…**

_

* * *

_

Believe those who are seeking the truth; doubt those who find it.


	13. Father's Mansion

**...Connection Reestablished…**

The skies were becoming gloomy. Clouds of grey shielded the earth from the pleasant sun. Regardless, luminosity shining through the mansion windows scarcely replaced the area's murkiness. Numbuh 1 stared up at the highest point of their enemy's home, which so happened to share the sky's shadows. He was well aware of the fact that the highest room of the home was one of Father's many private rooms. It was stupid of Father, making the most observable room of the mansion a private room. But Numbuh 1 wasn't complaining.

"Ow." He rubbed his behind after having backed up into another small thorn. "Numbuh 3, couldn't you come up with a better hiding place?"

Numbuh 3 popped up immediately out of the same bush, her mouth filled and part of her face stained bright red. "Hm?" she questioned, clearly not as completely focused on the mission as her own scrumptious one.

He groaned, aggravated. "Will you please try to stay alert? We're _supposed_ to be on guard."

"Numbuh 2 to Numbuh 1. Can you read?"

Once again, he stooped down into the thorny bushes to perceive the medium-sized portable video communication system, as they also referred to as the L.U.N.C.H.B.O.X. Numbuhs 2 and 4's faces became visible on the screen. "Numbuh 1 here. Spot anything suspicious?"

"Nothing yet, Numbuh 1."

"Though that cruddy butler was lookin' kind 'a eerie," Numbuh 4 stated.

"Keep a sharp eye, you two. Any of these adults can be hiding something."

He grabbed the binoculars that hung by a twine around his head and poked his head out of the bush. Some of the upstairs lights had now been turned off, but the main floor still remained illuminated. Raising the binoculars to his eyes, he examined through it, getting a clear picture of the rooms closer to their hiding spot.

The sound of munching did not cease, so he sent an annoyed glance towards his female comrade. "Numbuh 3, will you _please_ stop eating those raspberries and pay attention to the mission?"

She swallowed a larger amount of raspberries before looking at her leader. "Oh, sorry, Numbuh 1," she said, and then held out to him yet another handful. "Did you want some, too?"

Numbuh 1 rolled his eyes. He didn't hate Kuki being unmindful or in another world all the time. In fact, he kind of admired the fact that she nearly always believed that the world is a peaceful, beautiful place. However, he knew that there's always a time to face the harsh reality of the world. And there are also times to just cruddy focus.

"That's it. Next time, _I'm_ choosing the hiding spot," he announced after having backed up into another thorn.

Numbuh 3 stared at the raspberries in her hand, shrugged, and threw them in her mouth. To be honest, sometimes she had no clue what Numbuh 1 meant. Sometimes, she did and just chose to ignore it.

"Numbuh 1, come in."

The leader sighed, rather thankful. "Yes, Numbuh 5. Any luck?"

Inside of the mansion, silently looming the dimmed hallways of the main floor paced two children that would most likely be unwelcome if discovered within the home. Both of them shared similar earpieces to the ones on Numbuhs 1 and 3. "None. We checked all the rooms on the higher floors. There's nothin'."

"There can't be _nothing_, Numbuh 5. There's bound to be some sort of plans. Did you manage to hack into the systems?"

"Yeah. I'm tellin' ya, there's nothin'. It's like everythin' was deleted or somethin'."

Now, Numbuh 1 was truly puzzled. Why in the world would Father delete everything? "That's kind of strange. We've never had a problem hacking into his systems before. Was there anything that may be implicit of any hidden files? Perhaps you missed something." He had to have options. Otherwise they might as well turn around and go home.

"There was absolutely nothing in the computer systems, Numbuh 1," Mark's voice verified through the earpiece. "Everything must have been erased."

"Maybe there's a special system in one of the lower floors," Numbuh 2 suggested. "Remember the Delightful Children mentioned Father's inner sanctum down in the basement?"

"Of course," Numbuh 1 said in realization. "It has to be down there. Numbuh 5, see if you can get into the sanctum."

"Numbuh 1! We got a lock on Father and those cruddy Delightful Brats."

"Great work, Numbuh 4. Give me the coordinates."

Numbuh 4's expression went blank, demonstrating his uncertainty. "Eh…" He looked at Numbuh 2, who was turning knobs to get a clearer picture of an upstairs room in which a camera was zoomed in on from the outside. "Th' livin' room?"

Numbuh 1 raised the binoculars to his eyes and turned it towards the home's living room. "There they are," he murmured when he spotted only the back of the flaming man's head, unable to see the rest of him. "Mark, I need you to head to the mansion's living room and listen in on Father and his Delightful Children. Can you handle it?"

A frown appeared on Mark's face, as Numbuh 5 observed even in their darkened surroundings. If she hadn't known him better, he would have almost looked doubtful of his own ability. Or doubtful of _something_, anyway. She raised an eyebrow, interested in the reasoning behind his hesitation.

"Actually, would it be all right if I went down to the basement to search the systems instead?"

Numbuh 1 put down his binoculars, revealing his baffled expression. "Why?"

"Just for comfort purposes; I'm more trained that way. But if you prefer the other way, then I'm willing."

"Numbuh 5 doesn't have a problem with eavesdroppin', boss."

It wasn't that he doubted either one of them with whichever job. He had full faith in Numbuh 5 to easily listen in on Father and the Delightful Children, and he was perfectly comfortable with her hacking into Father's main systems. Mark wasn't much of a problem either. After all, he seemed virtually good at everything. The thing that bothered him was the fact that, even though he was capable of both tasks, his mind was set on the one. Did he make up his own penetrating plans without consulting the rest of the team? Was that a sign of taking charge?

Whatever it was, it would have to do. Numbuh 1, coming back to the world, played with the earpiece. "Yeah. Sure, Mark." He thought of this as doing the right thing, since he had a few days of loutishness to make up for.

"Thanks, Numbuh 1. I appreciate it."

He nodded technically to nobody but himself since Numbuh 3 was still pleasantly distracted by the raspberry paradise. One thing he realized he had been was insincere. He knew very well that he had a lot of things to improve about himself. After all, who in the world doesn't? Anytime would be a good time to start. "All right, you two. Move out."

They did. Numbuh 5 went off in one direction after acknowledging the Cadet in training. Mark, being that Cadet, watched her to ensure her direction was apt. He rushed down the other direction, towards the basement.

* * *

Numbuh 4 watched the insides of the mansion, particularly the higher floors, through the binoculars in his hands. "'Ey, Numbuh 2," he said without looking at his friend. "What do ya suppose those Delightful Creeps are up to? Just a guess."

At a small control panel with a large screen set up in front of it, Numbuh 2 was patiently flipping through various rooms recorded by the tiny cameras Numbuh 5 and Mark had set up all over the upper floors of the house. "I don't know. Maybe Father's trying to take over the world again or something, like those evil scientists on the _Space_ channel."

"Ah'm thinkin' that he's tryin' ta turn all kids into cock roaches an' then put us in a plate of spaghetti ta serve t' tha cruddy adults on Independence Day."

Numbuh 2 stared at him, awkwardly. "A little specific there, aren't you?"

"Nah. Ah just got an ingenious brain."

"Oh, right. How can I forget?"

Even Numbuh 4 was intelligent enough to catch the sarcasm. "Ya never know, ya know," he proclaimed. "Father's done crazy things before, am Ah right? 'Member tha time he turned us all into animals?"

"Of course. That was the day my baby brother became a hero," Numbuh 2 proudly claimed.

"Ya mean makin' Father a Kids Next Door operative? Yeah, he's a real hero."

"Numbuh 2, Numbuh 4, come in," a British voice echoed through the S.C.A.M.P.P.E.R's intercom. "Numbuh 5 has nearly reached the living room. She's going to set up the camera on the west wall. See if you can activate it for our L.U.N.C.H.B.O.X."

"Roger that," the pilot responded before beginning to play with the controls.

Meanwhile, Numbuh 5 was just outside the living room, back up against the wall. Her expression showed the temporary ruthlessness that often found its way to her external self. She did these kinds of things all the time. Nevertheless, the fun of it all never ceased to entertain her. She always thought that it was too easy, but she didn't always know whether that meant something troublesome or if the villains were just idiots. She had fun concluding the second option but was still very cautious about the first one.

Quickly, she realized the multiple wood beams that created shelves just above her head. Her instincts kicked in and she climbed the shelves to the near ceiling. As quietly as she could, she pulled out two plungers from the yellow backpack hanging off her shoulders. Before putting them to use, she snuck a small peak to see whether Father suspected anything strange or not. She was rather surprised at the confirmation.

Numbuh 5 adjusted the small microphone near her lips. "Numbuh 5 here. Can y'all hear me?"

"Loud and clear, Numbuh 5," Numbuh 1 answered. "Any news?"

"Man, you're not gonna believe this."

With those words out of the way, she set up a miniature video camera on the wall, as close as she could get it to the figures down below. As soon as it was in place, a small red light began flashing repeatedly. It didn't take too long before the living room could be viewed on the S.C.A.M.P.P.E.R. monitor and on Numbuhs 1 and 3's L.U.N.C.H.B.O.X. within the bushes.

Numbuhs 2 and 4 were open-mouthed. Numbuh 3 cocked her head to the side. Numbuh 1's left eyebrow rose.

"Children," called out the very relaxed voice of Father. "Come on in here, my precious darlings."

_Well, this is new_, Numbuh 1 thought.

Father was contentedly slouched in an extended armchair. His slipper-covered feet were prompted up on a cushiony stool and wearing his yellow robe with pink furry edgings. Wrapped in his arms, resting on his sagged stomach, was a red bowl of buttered popcorn. In front of him was a table on which rested a bucket of chocolate ice cream, a couple bags of potato chips, and a variety of other snacks.

In due time, the Delightful Children from Down the Lane strode into the living room. "Yes, Father," they said in sinister unison.

Father idly lifted his head off of the top of the couch to look at his children. "Get ready…"

Numbuh 1, still behind the bushes beside Numbuh 3, moved closer to the screen expectantly.

"…to watch the movie! I'm paying for these Premium channels, you know. Now go upstairs and get into something comfortable."

Numbuhs 2 and 4 looked at each other awkwardly. Numbuh 3 scratched her head, and Numbuh 1 straightened his slumped back, confounded. None of them had any idea what was going on. Befuddlement had struck them in respect to why Father would be spending his time acting normal and lazy when he could have been plotting schemes to destroy the Kids Next Door, as always.

"Right away, Father," the Delightful Children uttered before excitedly dashing out of the room.

An older man with a hairless head and a grey mustache, wearing a black suit, ambled into the living room. Balanced on his right hand was a silver tray holding a few cans of soda. "Your drinks, sir," he announced, bending his upper body slightly forward to allow Father to get a hold of the contents on the tray. Father responded by claiming the sodas.

"You know, Newton," Father voiced to his butler, "It has been by far a very difficult life for me all these years. What with my dad getting decommissioned again by my brother and nephew, and the whole making-kids'-lives-miserable thing. Sometimes it just feels good to kick back and relax. Why, who knows? I'll probably do it more often."

Numbuh 2, back in the S.C.A.M.P.P.E.R., began shaking his head. "Okay. Is it just me, or does it sound like Father's considering retirement?"

"_Shh_!" Numbuh 3 hissed into the microphone attached to her shirt, attentively watching the screen.

Newton straightened as soon as all the soda cans were off the tray. "Of course, sir. It must be very pleasant." Since Father was staring at the television screen, Newton rolled his eyes. He left the room without another word.

The Delightful Children appeared in the doorway, dressed in their night clothes. "We're ready, Father," they simultaneously uttered.

"Excellent," he declared. "Now sit down, children. This movie's a new release."

They did just that. The five unionized children flopped down on the couch just after the blonde Delightful child picked up a bowl of popcorn and the girl with pigtails grabbed the bag of potato chips. Rare, but calmed smiles brightened their faces.

"It sure is nice to be spending time with my Delightful Children," Father pronounced as he picked up the remote.

In the meantime, Numbuhs 1 and 3, contained by the bushes, were staring at the video communication system's screen, completely shocked. They were open-mouthed, and their eyebrows were raised as high as they could possibly go. Back in the ship, Numbuhs 2 and 4's expressions were similar as they gawked at the monitor. Numbuh 5, hanging off the outer wall by the two plungers, shared their stun.

"So, what now?" Numbuh 2 asked. "We sit and wait for the movie to finish?"

"Nuh uh. Numbuh 5 ain't hangin' here for an hour an' a half."

Numbuh 1 contemplated, somewhat timid. He looked at Numbuh 3, who looked back at him interestedly. There was really nothing else left to do. Why Father had decided to move on from a villainous life, he probably wouldn't know for certain anytime soon. He couldn't wait to report this news to Global Command. "Well, team, it looks like that's that. You can get out of there now, Numbuh 5. Our job's done."

"Copy that, Numbuh 1," she said softly, still cautious of the awareness of the people in the next room. Within seconds, she was down on the ground and hurrying back down the hallway.

"Mark?"

Ashlock, who was just outside Father's inner sanctum down in the basement, adjusted his earpiece. After doing so, he pulled up his brown backpack higher over his shoulders. "I read, Numbuh 1," he stated. "I'll be right out."

"All right. Numbuh 2, ready the ship for launching. We're going home."

* * *

The mansion was dreadfully quiet. The television was turned off, and there was minimal movement.

Through transparent glass set to be a window, five children watched the ship flying off. "They're gone, Father."

Father smirked. "Excellent."

**...Transmission Interrupted…**

_

* * *

_

The best thing about the future is that it only comes one day at a time.


	14. Friday Night

**...Transmission Continued…**

The rain came down ferociously that afternoon. It had started with a mild sprinkle. The moment Sector V arrived at the Treehouse, it got worse and worse up to the point where somebody could stand outside and get bruises from rapid water droplets. Regardless of the rough whether, the six kids inside the Treehouse fell under a very peaceful atmosphere.

A couple of hours passed before the sky began to clear. Clouds disappeared at the earth's horizon. Finally, the sun was visible, just in time for it to begin its setting course. The sky, instead of becoming a beautiful shade of blue, illuminated multiple shades of orange, pink and yellow. The bright yellow sun did not yet touch the ends of the earth. Its rays glistening off the remaining droplets lingering on the Treehouse's leaves gave Sector V's home a very blissful and serene revelation.

But enough with the pious descriptions of environment. Within the walls of the Treehouse, things were much less serene, though still blissful. Inside the guest bedroom on one of the higher floors, a very handsome boy stood up straight in front of the mirror. He stared at himself, apprehension shimmering in his eyes mixed with zeal. He was smiling, and yet he was still slightly tense.

"All right, Mark," he assured his reflection. "Not to worry. You can do this. Everything will turn out fine."

Carefully, he smoothed his tanned hands over his clothes. His final decision from choosing between a laid-back and a formal look was a combination of both. His hair was in its natural style; loose but smoothly combed. He wore a light red short-sleeved collar shirt with a plaid pattern, which was unbuttoned near the top to reveal his thin white t-shirt underneath. The denim pants that seemed to fit just right on his body divulged both classiness and relaxation. Instead of wearing his usual sneakers, he wore a pair of brown, classy dress shoes with laces.

His fingers traveled through his hair to ensure its freedom of knots and tangles. He was surprised with himself given that he was more tense than expected. Unsure of the reason, his mind ran through any optional motives. _Perhaps I'm just nervous, _he considered the obvious. _After all, this has to go right_.

Was he expecting too much out of himself? He didn't want to think that way. He was taught to always aim for the highest. That seemed to get him pretty far in everything he did, which was a relief because it wasn't truly all that easy. But it paid off. Hard work always paid off.

Finally, he straightened. He couldn't get any more casual than now without looking older. In fact, he even decided to shake his head to free his hair from its perfection, and then mildly brushed off his shirt with his hands. His eyes went back to his reflection in the mirror. _Perfect_.

* * *

"Oh, yeah! Hammerhead goes for two!"

"Lucky punch, mate."

Numbuh 1 glanced up from the open book in his hands, not that he was reading it in the first place. He watched Numbuhs 2 and 4 struggling with the videogame controls. On the screen before them, there were two wrestlers in a wrestling rink. Heavy metal music partially drowned out the crowd's screaming and fighting sound effects. It wasn't annoying to listen to, but it wasn't enjoyable either. His decision was to not complain since he had a few days of bad attitude to make up for. Besides, it wasn't like he was doing anything important at the moment.

"'Ey, that's cruddy cheatin'!"

"There's no such thing as cheating in this game," Numbuh 2 claimed.

"Shows what _you_ know," Numbuh 4 retorted.

As the two of them continued on with their temporary videogame rivalry, Mark stepped in on them, expecting nothing out of the ordinary. He smiled awkwardly when observing the typical weeknight living room scene. "Hey, guys," he uttered as casually as he possibly could.

Numbuh 1 turned his gaze towards the young man in the corridor. Uncertainty changed his facial expression once scrutinizing Mark's wardrobe. "Hi," he answered, rather distracted, which was obvious. "Wow, you look…different."

Mark hoisted one of his feet into perspective. "New shoes."

"D'aw, man!" Numbuh 2 whined, having been crushed by his electronic game opponent with a body slam. The screen flicked the words 'GAME OVER', followed by 'HAMMERHEAD LOSES'.

Numbuh 4, looking rather smug, leaned his head against the palm of his hands behind him. "Well, you know what they say."

Numbuh 2 raised his brow. "No, what do they say?"

"Ah dunno. Ah was hopin' you would know."

Leaning on the armrest of the orange couch they sat on, Mark looked over at the screen, then at them.

The pilot was first to notice him. "Oh hey, Mark. Snappy outfit."

"Thanks. Picked out the pants myself," he laughed.

"Goin' somewhere?" Numbuh 4 inquired. He tossed the controller resting in his lap aside before pushing himself up and situating his feet on the cushion of the couch. The controller happened to land on Numbuh 2's own lap.

Mark nodded. "Yeah. Actually, Numbuh 5 and I are going out tonight."

Numbuh 1 looked up from his book.

"Really?" Numbuh 2 curiously questioned. "Where?"

"_Papa Razzi's_. It's an Italian restaurant downtown. The food quality is really satisfying."

"So, then this is like a date?" Now leaning his body against the back of the orange sofa, still standing on the cushion, Numbuh 4 exposed a sly grin. He maintained his cool with his arms crossed in front of his chest. Over the past few days, he'd warmed up to Mark's fun side. This was the first time he'd essentially teased him. Not a first for Numbuh 5, of course. They teased each other all the time.

Numbuhs 1 and 2 looked at him, a bit outlandishly, as a reaction to his absurd comment.

Mark only chuckled, able to sense the humor. "Well, not exactly. More like a friendly outing, I suppose."

* * *

"Hold still, Numbuh 5. Or else I'll never get these strips tied right."

Numbuh 5 sighed. "I still don't get why I'm doin' this."

"Because you'll look stupid if you're still in your usual outfit while Mark is all dressed up for you. Now hang on another second; I'm almost done." Numbuh 3 persisted concentration on the two strings on either side of her friend's neck. Her tongue stuck out of the corner of her mouth as she fumbled with them. Finally, her fingers cooperated with her, and a simple knot was created behind Numbuh 5's neck, therefore securely holding up the white halter top.

"Done?"

"Yup. All finished." Numbuh 3 giggled. "I'm brilliant, aren't I?"

Numbuh 5 turned ninety degrees so that she was now facing the full-length mirror on her wall. She was not entirely surprised, had she expected something a little different when allowing Numbuh 3 to get her ready. With much argument, she had convinced her friend to leave her braid alone and permit her to keep her hat. She didn't hate the white halter top, nor did she hate the simple but chic blue jeans flaring slightly at the bottom. Numbuh 3 insisted on high heels, but when Numbuh 5 suggested thin red flip-flops, she was all over the idea.

"You look really pretty, Numbuh 5. And extra special for your date."

"Numbuh 5's told ya six times already, Kuki. This isn't a date."

"Aw, come on," Numbuh 3 denied, flicking a wrist. "He's taking you to a fancy restaurant on a Friday night. It doesn't get more romantic than that." Gradually, as she rested her behind down on a comfy-looking chair, she seemed to fade into a faraway land. Her eyes wandered the ceiling while her hands were joined together in front of her by the crossing of her fingers.

Meanwhile, Numbuh 5 straightened her white top before glancing at her wristwatch. "It's six forty-five. Mark an' I've gotta be outta here by seven." She looked over at Numbuh 3. "Ya comin'?"

"Hm?" From the ceiling, the Japanese girl blankly stared at her friend for a second. "Oh yeah right."

Moments passed for the both of them before, in due course, arrived at the living room, in which they found four boys settled around eating a bowl of popcorn. The red bowl was placed on the low-rise table. Numbuhs 1 and Mark were seated at the edge of the green sofa, while Numbuh 2 had his legs crossed on a pillow on the floor across from the two of them. Numbuh 4 rested his weight on his knees on the perpendicular part of the table.

"Ooh!" was Numbuh 3's reaction to the sight of popcorn on the table. "Is that buttered?" Without waiting for a reply, she rushed over to them, kneeled on the floor on the other side of Numbuh 4 and grabbed a handful of popcorn.

Numbuh 5 stepped towards the exit while facing the group of kids. "Ya ready t' go, Mark?"

As quickly as he could, he got to his feet and lightly wiped his hands on his jeans to get rid of any excess butter on his fingers. "Yes, of course."

"You kids skedaddle and have fun, y' hear?" Numbuh 2 said in an ancient voice before tossing a piece of popcorn into his open mouth.

"Yeah, an' bring back some leftover spaghetti," Numbuh 4 added.

Numbuh 1 arose. "Don't stay out too late, you two. I'll be expecting you back her at nine o'clock."

Numbuh 5 gave him a look. "Numbuh 5 doesn't think we need a curfew, Numbuh 1."

"As long as I'm the leader of this Sector, I expect you to obey my rules. Besides, you know as well as I do that the teenagers and adults always come out late at night, that being why parents give kids bedtimes. It's a big risk, being out there after dark."

"Don't worry, Numbuh 1," Mark claimed. "We'll make it back by ten."

The leader considered while still holding up his index finger towards them. It took him a moment to realize that he was reaching his irrational side again. He trusted nothing terrible would happen. Things rarely do on holiday weekends around their neighborhood. Still, he had this heavy feeling at the pit of his stomach that seemed incomprehensible. But he made the dive anyway.

"Well, all right," he finally said. "Be home by ten o'clock and not a moment later."

Mark smiled. "Deal."

Numbuh 5 nodded.

With that negotiated the two of them left the room and entered the small elevator that would lead them down to the ground floor. Just before the doors closed, Numbuh 4 called out to them, "Don't forget tha spaghetti!"

**...Interrupting Transmission…**

* * *

_Aerodynamically the bumblebee shouldn't be able to fly, but the bumblebee doesn't know that so it goes on flying anyway._


	15. A Special Evening

...**Transmission Continued…**

"Ah, _Senior_, _Seniorita._ Welcome to _Papa Razzi's._" An old man with grey hair and a matching mustache stood before a smooth, wooden stand. He pronounced his welcome like they were all one big happy family. He had on a classy tuxedo, but his tie was loosened. "Do you have any reservations?"

"Yes. Ashlock."

Numbuh 5 looked at him, astonished to some extent.

The man slipped on a pair of square glasses before briefly surveying his list with much enthusiasm. The smile never left his face. "Ah, but of course. Reservation for two." He gazed up at them over the rim of his glasses. "Oh, I see that _Senior_ has requested a _private_ booth." He wiggled his eyebrows shrewdly, his lips forming a knowing smirk. "Very good. Right this way."

As they followed, Numbuh 5 glanced in Mark's direction. "Reservations?" she inquired.

"In movies, I've noticed it seems more formal to make reservations," Mark suggested, uncertain. "I could be wrong."

Mark and Numbuh 5 were led into the core of the modish Italian restaurant, decorated based on the cultural environment. Red, white and green lights framed the large dining room's Michelangelo-inspired ceiling. The tables, occupied by average adults and average adolescents dressed averagely, were much less average. Wine red tablecloths just scarcely hiding the bottom layer of white fabric gracefully settled upon each of the rectangular-shaped tables. Candles were sophisticatedly set in the center of each, along with a red flower in a transparent, miniature vase.

"Your table for two," the old man, who they suspected to be the owner of the restaurant thanks to the nametag pinned to his shirt, claimed, still seemingly quite blissful of nothing in particular. Just as the two of them were settled, the old man gave them each their own menus. "I'll be back in one moment to take your orders." Mark nodded in response, and the man left.

Numbuh 5 leaned forward and folded her arms on the table. "Numbuh 5's glad we got to do this."

"So am I. Tomorrow's my last day with you and your friends."

She made note of the slightly dismayed expression that replaced his usual sensitive, yet strong one. The time the team and him had spent together, even though it was a short time, brought them all closer. They didn't even have to do anything special; just the average moping around the Treehouse and the ordinary ruthless missions. She sent a fleeting look downwards.

"We'll miss ya," she admitted.

Mark smiled towards his hands laid flat on the table. But he didn't respond. Not right away.

"It's not like I'll be gone, right? I mean, I'll still be a Kids Next Door operative. We'll still see each other."

"Numbuh 5 hopes so. Things changed with ya around, and they'll change even more without ya."

"Things will certainly change for me, too. But who knows? Maybe I won't go too far."

A light laugh. That was all she could really offer in response; especially after that mischievous and humorous wink that followed. In a way, he was right. He was a soon-to-be Kids Next Door operative. He would go on similar missions, and attend the same ceremonies, and do what any ordinary operative would do. He lived in the area, so his Sector location wouldn't be too distant. He could always come by their Treehouse and hang out. The team had gotten to know him well enough to presume awkwardness no longer came between them and Mark. Still, Numbuh 5 hoped for something else. She faintly wished, almost unknowingly, for a way to see him more often. Everyday.

But how much could she expect? He was this fantastic kid with so much potential to make it to the top. There weren't all that many people she knew that had that quality. There were. But not many.

In the end, it would be Mark's decision, anyhow. As he hilariously attempted to flag down a nearby waitress, Numbuh 5 contemplated. What _did_ Mark want? She knew about his brother. She incompletely knew why he joined the Kids Next Door. For some reason, nevertheless, he seemed somewhat careless in a way. He didn't have a specific profession of interest in mind. That was rather unusual, since almost every Kid Next Door knew exactly what he or she wanted to do as an operative.

"Can we get a couple of drinks here, please?" Mark inquired.

"Sure," a young woman with black hair pulled back in a ponytail said, keenly, regardless of the piled dirty plates barely balanced in her hand.

Numbuh 5 smiled at him. That's all she did. She just stared and smiled, completely diverted.

Mark noticed this. "What?" he chuckled.

"Ya sure know how to treat someone, don't ya."

His shoulders rose near his ears, then swiftly dropped back down to a comfortable position. "Why? Feeling treated?"

The waitress returned with two glasses, each containing a few ice cubes, along with two cans of soda. Numbuh 5 watched while she set them down at their table. Puzzlement expressed well on her face. "If Numbuh 5 wasn't before, she's feelin' it now." The woman walked away, and she looked from the drinks to Mark. "How th' heck did ya manage t' get us sodas? They're illegal for anyone under thirteen."

Mark poured into her glass the soda pop from one of the cans. "I pulled a few strings," he claimed.

Her eyebrow rose. She inquisitively stared at the glass.

His laugh was light, but seemed almost like banter. "Don't worry," he assured. "It's not poisoned. I promise."

Regardless of the astonishment that was still merely squeezed in a small area in her mind, she chose to let out a similar light-hearted laugh in return. She grasped the glass in her hand and hoisted it in his direction. "To you, and to the Kids Next Door."

Mark picked up his own glass in the same manner. "To what tomorrow brings us."

To that, they tapped glasses and drank.

* * *

Numbuh 1 stared at the elevator door as his body gracelessly rested upon the green sofa chair.

"Uh, Numbuh 1?" Numbuh 2 uttered. "The TV screen's over here."

"Hm? Oh, yeah. I know."

Numbuh 4 exchanged a bemused glace with Numbuh 2, and then looked apprehensively at his dazed friend. "Then why aren't ya watchin' it?"

"It's a commercial," he claimed.

He wasn't wrong. Behind the boys, Numbuh 3 was blissfully distracted by the television screen before her, throwing individual pieces of popcorn into her mouth while moving her body to the beat of the fun theme of the cereal commercial. A little _O_-shaped cereal piece with arms, legs, large eyes and a mouth danced merely to the tune most likely exemplifying how enjoyably delicious he and his buddies are.

"Yeah, but it's a little more interesting than the door," Numbuh 2 declared.

This time, Numbuh 1 didn't answer.

The pilot sighed. "What's gotten into you? It's not like they're in mortal danger, or anything. They just went out for dinner."

"Speakin' of dinner, Ah'm hungry." Numbuh 4 got to his feet. "What're we havin'?"

"I'm not worried, Numbuh 2," Numbuh 1 attempted to affirm.

"So come on over here and watch the show with us."

"Fine. I will."

He really didn't want to, but he didn't make it all that obvious. At that moment, all he wanted to do was ensure the end of his friend's necessary nagging. So, lazily yet convincing enough for satisfaction, he marched over to where Numbuhs 2 and 3 were relaxed and Numbuh 4 was pouting.

"_Hello_. Someone's starvin' over here. Ah _said_, what're we havin'?"

Numbuh 1 flopped down on the left side of the orange sofa, just recently abandoned by the hungry Australian boy. Numbuh 2 rested his head on his fist and watched the screen, filling his mouth with the delicious buttered popcorn loaded up in the red bowl on his lap. Noticing the sudden silence that followed Numbuh 4's inquiry, Numbuh 3 took a hold of the phone that happened to be beside her, and she handed it to him.

After he took it, for about a second or two, Numbuh 4 only stared at the phone peculiarly. Finally, he pressed one of the speed dial buttons.

"Hi, there. You've reached Ted's Take-Out; guaranteed on-time delivery, or free of charge. May I take your order?"

"Yeah, bring ova four orders of fries."

"What size will those be?"

"Tha biggest ya got."

"All righty then. Anything else?"

The blonde boy turned around. "'Ey. Ya guys want anythin'?"

Numbuh 3 instantly flung up her hand and waved it frantically in the air. "_Ooh_! _Ooh_! Get me the Crispy Chicken Strips Deluxe."

"And I'll have the Super Triple-Stacked Cheeseburger."

Numbuh 4 repeated their orders, including a Beef-n-Bacon Burger with extra cheddar, into the phone.

"Okey-Dokey. Will that be all?"

"Hold up there, Teddy," he asserted. Placing his hand over the receiver, he said to his leader, "'Ey, Numbuh 1. What d' ya want?"

_What do I want?_ Numbuh 1 repeated in his head. He looked over to Numbuh 4, and then turned his gaze to his lap. He had a strong feeling that he would regret this. But he felt that his emotions had gotten the better of him, yet again. Well, actually, he didn't feel much of anything at the moment. He had many things on his mind, and one of them wasn't food.

"I'm not all that hungry, actually."

The others didn't know quite how to react as they watched their leader exit the Treehouse.

* * *

"Keep up the good work, everybody," Numbuh 362 shouted out optimistically. "At this rate, we should have this place all ready before tomorrow morning."

A young boy wearing construction worker's outfit rushed up to the Supreme Leader. "Numbuh 362, sir!" he cried. "The blueprints call for three-inch wood frames, and ours are three point five-inch wood frames!"

"Don't worry, Numbuh 4-by-12. I'll get the Timber Squad right on that. Meanwhile, see if you can do something about that weak spot on the stage."

Numbuh 86 came up beside Numbuh 362 just as the boy ran off. "How's everything?"

"Pretty good. Has Numbuh 60 arrived back from Arctic Base yet?"

"No, he said he'd be back within the next hour though. But he won't be staying long. His parents want him home early tonight." She looked around the room before whispering, "He says it's a family outing."

Both girls shuddered together at the thought.

"Best of luck to him."

"But he _did_ send these footnotes on Ashlock's training methods and results. 'Says you can use them when you're delivering your speech." She handed her a beige folder.

Numbuh 362 took it with consideration. On the folder printed in black felt-tip marker, it read '_Cadet: Mark Ashlock_'. "It's pretty thick," she pointed out. Papers were squeezed in so tightly that a rubber band had been placed over it to keep it from falling apart.

"I'll have to read it later." A second thought of reading it there and then did not come up. So she put it under her arm, securing it in place by pressing her forearm to her side. "Numbuh 86, can you take over from here? Numbuh 13 managed to somehow receive the role helping paint the bulletin." Her eyes rolled. " I can't wait to see the disaster on the Paint Deck."

"Yes, sir." Numbuh 86 saluted her. She then sent a meaningful glare towards the operatives hard at work. "All right, troops!" she exclaimed. "If this place isn't ready by tomorrow, I'll have your heads for it!"

The operatives, bewildered, looked at the head of the Decommissioning Squad.

Her voice sweetened when she said, "How about, if it's done by tonight, I'll treat you all to ice cream?"

At that, the entire incompletely-decorated stadium full of children erupted into cheers and quickly got back to work. Most of boys and girls in construction clothing with yellow helmets worked on various parts of run-down bleachers. The some of them worked on the stage, while the rest of them sat around the blueprints laid out on the floor. Kids in white overalls splattered a brown coat of paint on the seat of the benches. Now that the idea of free ice cream was on their minds, they suddenly looked as if they were moving much quicker.

"Say, that's pretty generous of you, Fanny." Numbuh 362 scratched her head. "How are you going to afford that with your allowance money?"

Numbuh 86 smirked and held up a small plastic card between her index and middle finger. "Please. My daddy's credit card."

The Irish red-head examined the room briefly. "Do you really think we can get this place ready by tomorrow afternoon?" she inquired.

"Of course. Let's hope so, anyway. If Mark Ashlock's going to graduate as a Kids Next Door operative, we've got to make sure it goes down in history."

Numbuh 86, for a second time, examined the room carefully. She wasn't exactly sure why she had doubt in her fellow operatives. They were well capable of tasks like repairing parts of Treehouses and main Bases. _Precaution_; that's what she suspected. Everything that would happen tomorrow, and even after that, just may become legendary. And, in a way, she was right.

* * *

"No way."

"I'm serious."

"For a lousy snow cone?"

She laughed. "Yeah."

Mark leaned back in his chair, befuddled to the extent of some exaggeration, but befuddled nonetheless. "That Professor Triple Extra Large sure is ambitious about making the perfect one. So what happened next?"

"Then Numbuh 4 and Lizzie came back. Ya should 'a seen Numbuh 4 when he walked in."

"What I'd give to see his expression." Mark chuckled in return. "Was he freaked out?"

Numbuh 5 shrugged her shoulders. "Numbuh 5'd say more like exhausted."

"_Excusez_, _Senior_, _Seniorita_," proclaimed the old man whom they'd earlier learned to be the restaurant manager, named Luigi. Balanced on his fingertips was a circular, silver tray with a matching large, hemisphere-shaped lid covering its contents. "You're dinner is served."

Two younger men, both dressed in the same way as Luigi, cleared the table of the flower and candle. As soon as room was made, the manager carefully placed the tray down on their table. Numbuh 5 exchanged glances with Mark; both of them were smiling, amused, at their formal gestures.

Luigi removed the lid by the handle to reveal the hot pizza.

"_Buon pasto_," he declared before walking off behind the two younger waiters.

Mark let go of a small chuckle as they both reached for a slice. "How many adults do you know that go to a restaurant like this and order a pepperoni pizza?"

"I can name a few," Numbuh 5 replied, sharing the hilarity.

Numbuh 5 took a bite. Mark did the same. From underneath her cap, she watched the extended, stretched cheese connecting the slice to Mark's teeth. Mark snorted as he tried to break it off. Numbuh 5 laughed along with him, the end of her pizza slice still between her teeth.

There and then, she decided with full certainty that she would miss him.

"So you never did tell me who this Lizzie was."

Silence.

"You know, the one Numbuh 4 distracted while Numbuh 1 was sleeping?"

Time passed ever so slowly; she was somehow taken aback by that. She had no reason to be.

"Oh, uh…just Numbuh 1's old girlfriend." Numbuh 5 felt bad for bringing that up. It was Numbuh 1's business, and she had no right sharing it with other people.

Mark looked somewhat panicked at that. "Oh, I see."

That became one of the first awkward silences between them within the past few days.

"They…broke up?"

Numbuh 5 made it obvious that she didn't want to talk about it, but made sure she wasn't rude about it at the same time. "Yeah. Not too long ago." Truth was, she could go on about it. But all she wanted tonight was an evening without a Kids Next Door hassle around the corner.

"Sorry," Mark uttered. "You're right. Tonight is about us."

She looked up. Her eyebrow was raised. "Ya mean you."

"I mean us." He leaned in towards her. "I could never have accomplished any of this without you and your friends. This has been my dream for years. And after tomorrow, I'll finally be given the chance to live it."

And then, all of a sudden, nothing else seemed to matter.

...**Interrupting Transmission…**

* * *

_The world makes way for the one who knows where he is going._


	16. Friend In Me

**...Continuing Transmission…**

A gentle wind picked up a plastic bag and carried it a few feet before placing it down again. Seconds later, the wind smoothly wafted it up the deserted road a few feet more. For a city that always seemingly experienced the greatest amount of action everyday, it was oddly quiet that evening. The only movement in the neighborhood was that plastic bag being hoisted by the mild breeze. The bag was lifted once more and propelled up the road. It kept going until it disappeared over the neighborhood horizon.

As the plastic bag vanished, the figure of a young boy appeared in its place. Slowly – apathetically, he made his halfhearted way down the road. Not that he was paying attention, really. Then again, he knew this road backwards and forwards, having walked down it so many times. He didn't really need to pay attention to it. So he continued to walk down it. Blindly, yet aware.

_I'm a hypocrite_, he decided. If there was one thing he didn't feel comfortable allowing any of his teammates to do at night, it was being out of the Treehouse without any company. And yet, here he was. The irony of the situation was uncomfortable. He needed to turn back; he needed to go home. The team would be concerned.

He stopped and looked up at the moon. Operatives would be preparing for tomorrow, he imagined. Usually, a lot of work was put into these graduation ceremonies for some reason. He never understood why in its entirety. Cadets graduated to Field Operatives so often, before they could take down those recreational decorations from the last ceremony, there was another one to prepare for. But he didn't argue. It wasn't something he needed to worry about.

Curious and apprehensive, he brought his wrist up to his eyes. Aware of his fatigue and drifting mind, he became suddenly thankful for Numbuh 2's idea to make digital watches for the team in replacement for those old analog watches. Still, he didn't become conscious of what time it was until after a moment of staring at his watch. _Nine thirty-seven_. Great. Now he was almost certain that the others would rub this in his face. It was just like Numbuh 4 to use this scenario against him in the future. Not that he could blame him.

A small light appeared where the road reached the horizon. Squinting, Numbuh 1 watched that light as it slowly brightened. His mind remained somewhat bemused and distracted; he didn't really know what else to do. So he just stood there, one arm hanging by his side while his other hand was raised slightly towards his chest.

Eventually, the light became so bright that, even with his sunglasses on, he needed to raise a hand over his head to shield his eyes. The light stopped growing, and in its place, a loud car horn honked multiple times at him. "Hey! Move it, ya brat!" a voice cried from behind the light.

Numbuh 1 scowled and moved to the side of the road. If in a similar case, he would probably shout at the driver, telling him to watch where he was driving. But what was the point? He knew well that wandering in the middle of the road wasn't always the smartest thing to do. He wasn't feeling all that smart, anyway.

As soon as he regained sight after having moved away from the blinding headlights, he questioningly glanced over to the car. Inside the blue convertible with the loud metal music playing were a bunch of teenagers. He almost spat. If there was anything he hated more than adults, it was teenagers. Strange was the fact that he never had to grow up with one or anything. Even so, he still retained his usual suspicion towards them. After all, he did have reason to. Very few of them trusted him in return.

The driver, a boy with shabby brown hair covering his eye, was glaring in his direction. "Watch where you're walkin', ya little twerp!" he barked at him.

Numbuh 1 glowered back at him but kept his mouth shut. There was no use arguing. His eyes swiftly examined the teenagers. The driver had his arm around a blonde-haired girl with hoop earrings bigger than her ears. On the other side of her, a larger, more muscular boy with short brown hair was wildly bobbing his large head to the music. In the back seat, a blonde boy with a silver earring had each of his arms around the two girls on either side of him. One had black hair in a ponytail and her head resting on his shoulder. The other, as she laughed at something the driver said, made Numbuh 1 direct his grimace towards her instead.

Cree turned her head slightly to look at Numbuh 1. Before the car speedily drove off, leaving him alone in a cloud of dust, she sent him a look of hatred and scornful amusement.

Thoughts rushed in and out of his head just as the car of slapdash teenagers had rushed in out of view. Numbuh 1, slowly but surely, began to follow its direction. He was madly hoping that he would arrive back at the Treehouse before Mark and Numbuh 5 returned. At the same time, for the first time in his entire life with them, he hoped his teammates had forgotten he was gone.

* * *

Tranquility was temporarily interrupted by the gentle sound of laughter echoing through the night sky. Two children, side by side, gradually strolled up the narrow sidewalk towards the home with a large tree growing out of it. Mark looked up at the large tree growing out of the house, the smile still plastered on his face, holding a closed Styrofoam container the size of a pencil case. Numbuh 5 followed his example and gazed up at the Treehouse.

"You know, this is my last time walking to this Treehouse as a Cadet," Mark claimed.

"Ya make it seem so depressin'," Numbuh 5 pointed out.

He shrugged his shoulders. "I'm thrilled, really. In a way." He added, "It's just that…" A sigh escaped his lips as he slowed his pace when reaching the front of the Treehouse. "Well, I won't be here anymore. Here with you and your team. I'll be in a Sector of my own."

"It ain't as bad as it sounds." Even though she was trying to convince him to look at the bright side, she was feeling rather sad about it herself. But she made sure it didn't show. Not yet. Not tonight. "There's still those Kids Next Door gatherings and stuff. Like, next week, there's th' KND Olympics."

"Yeah, but it's not the same." Mark took steps away from her, so that his back was facing the Treehouse. "It's like…getting ice cream from your freezer instead of getting it from the passing ice cream trucks. You understand, don't you?"

Numbuh 5 crossed her arms in front of her chest and looked down towards the opposite direction. "Yeah, I guess I do." Abruptly, she looked back at him with a smile. "So, what happened to Mister 'I-won't-be-gone-forever' and his words of wisdom?"

He chuckled weakly. "I think we may've forgotten him back at the restaurant."

The problem was that she _did_ understand how he was feeling. Too much, maybe. She tried to convince herself of the truth: they would still see each other. Why was it so hard for her to accept, even after she attempted to persuade the same exact thing? Oh, she knew why. Because it _wasn't_ the same.

With her arms still crossed, she looked down, mostly at her white shirt. She was proud of herself not to get any stains on it. But she had a good habit of keeping food off her clothes, unlike the others. Mark didn't do so bad either, other than his laughing accidentally causing the soda to mildly drip from his mouth and onto his pants. But, hey. When you're a kid, who cares?

"You know, it's funny," he said, "when I came here, I never expected to make any friends. All I really thought about is following my brother. But now…" He turned around. Now he faced Numbuh 5. She noticed the gleam in his eyes. "Now, I don't want to leave."

"Mark, it's all right. We're…"

But she stopped. She tried to continue, but astonishment came over her when he took her hands in his; she forgot to speak.

"Strange as it sounds, I never did make any real friends, since I spent most of my time with my family. You and your teammates changed that for me. It feels so good to have somebody to talk to when I need to just talk. Or somebody whose there for me when I need somebody there. Just…someone to be my friend." He looked up from their hands, at her. "I don't know how often people like you come around. I'm probably just one of the lucky ones." He chuckled. It was a muted chuckle.

Numbuh 5 suddenly became thankful that he was slightly taller than her; she could look down and shield her eyes with the brim of her hat, and he wouldn't be able to peek. If he wasn't taller than her, he'd probably be able to see the tears welling up.

Somehow, nevertheless, he knew. "I'm sorry," he laughed, mostly at himself, he supposed. "I didn't mean for that to happen. I guess it just…came out. I didn't mean to create an emotional ferry ride."

"No. It's cool," she answered, quickly, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. Finally, she knew what it was. Finally, Mark's greatest longing became clear to her.

All he wanted was a friend.

"I put my faith in you, Numbuh 5," he added. "You and the rest of Sector V. I've trusted you guys to be there for me. And you have." He turned his head away. "I guess…" He paused, and then turned back to her. "I want you to be able to have faith in me. In return."

She looked down at his hands, holding hers. They were so unusually warm and so tender. The way his thumbs smoothed over they back of her hand. It was…nice.

For the first time that evening, her eyes directly met his. She answered him, at last. "That's not a problem."

He smiled at her.

It surprised her. Not the smile, but her reaction; she pulled her hands away. She didn't know why she did. How beautiful it felt having her hands in his. But still, she pulled away, willingly. Why did she have to pull away?

Instincts?

* * *

Numbuh 1's eyes scanned the files before him over the rims of his sunglasses. After having read them and reread them several times, he felt that he could recite them by memory. But Numbuh 362 was pretty strict when it came to accuracy and detail. He supposed that's what made her a good Supreme Leader. Perfection was something she always strived for. Although sometimes it overpowered her, and precision became extreme, he still admired that. In a way, he was kind of like that, too. Scanning everything and making sure everything was seamless. But, at the same time, he wasn't like Numbuh 362. She seemed to get along fine without a friend's accompaniment. From what he knew about her, at least.

Still, he could never handle that. He didn't want to try, either. Being with his friends was too important to him to give up. Doubt rarely filled his mind concerning that. As convenient and funny as it was, he'd never thought about it much. Friendship had become a part of his life.

Besides, he was far too busy examining Mark's progress reports. They weren't as long as they had seemed when he was writing them out. Normally, operatives who took in Cadets would have pages and pages of notes on the Cadet. Heck, he expected that from himself. So, now he wondered why these were only six and a half pages.

He shook his head and sat back down on the maroon pillow flattened on the stool. He was criticizing himself again. He tended to do that a lot. He would find his moments to blame a problem on somebody else, but, even so, some of those times the problem would just direct back at him. It didn't have to; it just did. But why did he have to be so prudent of himself? Oh, that's right. Because all the weird things happened to him. Numbuh 1 laughed out loud at himself at the thought, growing to be more of a fact. Weird things _did_ happen to him a lot. Snake ties, great white asparagus, lonely mustaches, vengeful babies… The bizarre stopped being bizarre a long time ago.

Somehow, the laugh that escaped his throat made him realize how tired he was. He rubbed his temple with three fingers. How strange it was, how he never got a milkshake headache, but he could get a headache from just plain thinking. That had been happening more often than usual lately.

Numbuh 1 wondered if the others had already turned in. He also wondered if it was worth a peek. They hadn't seen him coming in to the Treehouse, thanks to the high-volume television. He _had_ managed to get a glimpse of them and, at the same time, had to desperately hold in a laugh from seeing Numbuh 4 groaning, holding his stomach, having had too much dinner for satisfaction. In any case, they didn't look the least bit tired. He sort of hoped that wouldn't last. From experience, he'd learned that sleeping early, or even being the first to go to sleep, proved a kid to be no fun. Not that he agreed with that theory. Thanks to a certain person, he found out for himself that sleeping wasn't as useless as he had led it to seem.

At that coincidental time, he heard a knock at his door. "Numbuh 1? Can I come in?"

"Yeah, sure."

The door opened, and Numbuh 5 appeared from behind it. She smiled and held up a Styrofoam container. "Got ya some spaghetti. Th' otha's said ya didn't get dinner, an' Numbuh 4 looked like he had one fry too many."

Numbuh 1 chuckled. "Thanks."

She set the container on the desk next to him and leaned against that same desk, facing her leader. "So, what's up?"

"Nothing, really. I mean, I have to send these reports on Mark's progress before tomorrow afternoon. But that's not a problem. Right now I'm just checking over it, and all I really have to do is add today's report onto it from the mission at Father's." His voice seemed to slowly fade near the end of his answer when he noticed Numbuh 5 staring at him peculiarly. He felt the need to laugh. "Too much info?"

"I meant with you," she confirmed.

He only looked back at her, befuddled.

"Numbuh 2 told me what happened when Mark an' I were gone. Th' otha's agree; things have been a little weird with ya, lately. We're kind 'a worried 'bout ya." She watched his eyes fall to the ground, becoming hidden by his shades. "What's on your mind, boss?"

"We've had this discussion before, Numbuh 5," he proclaimed. "It's not important. There's no need to make a big deal over it."

"Hey, if it's hurtin' you, we're not gonna say its not important. We're your friends, Numbuh 1. We ain't gonna leave ya alone when ya need us."

He knew they wouldn't. That was the beauty behind the truth: it was the complete truth. Knowing that there was somebody to catch him when he fell was the best feeling in the world. Only at the moment, he just didn't know it well enough to accept it.

"I appreciate the thought, but I'm fine."

Numbuh 5 had thought this over. She knew what she was doing when she said, "It's not about Lizzie, is it?"

He was more bewildered than ever. It was so abrupt – so unexpected. It wasn't long ago that his girlfriend became his ex-girlfriend. He knew that Numbuh 5 was well aware about the melancholy withstanding to this day that event had caused him. He knew she knew that. Perhaps, for that fact, he should not have been surprised of her inquiry.

Regardless, he was very much confounded. "Why would you assume that?" he questioned in return.

"I dunno," she said with a shrug. "What else could it be?"

"It's nothing."

"I'm not stupid, Nigel. It's not nothin'." Numbuh 1 was especially puzzled at this. No, it wasn't because she'd used his first name. In fact, for a little while now, that had become quite common amongst the team. No, it was how she could hint a bit of frustration from his incessant denial, and yet still have so much compassion and apprehension for his sake in her voice. It was somewhat awe-inspiring, how she always managed to do that. He didn't blame her for being slightly aggravated with his stubborn attitude; but he still waited for her to stop caring about what he was thinking, turn around, and get on with her life. He expected that from any other person.

She exhaled deeply. Numbuh 1 was a very mysterious character. Growing up with him, she'd learned so many things about him. Even to this day, she continued to learn about him. And it wasn't all that easy. Reading Numbuh 1 was like reading an encyclopedia written in metaphors and parables; you would expect to understand it the first time through, but you have to read it again and again until you fully grasp it. That was okay with her. She liked a challenge, and Numbuh 1 was it.

Right now, having gotten out of school just yesterday for the long weekend, she wasn't in the mood for another challenge. All she wanted was an answer. But if he wasn't going to give her one, she didn't see much of a point in arguing. It was his business, anyway. If he didn't want to talk about it, she had no right to interrogate him. "Sorry 'bout that."

"No. I'm the one who should be sorry. I didn't mean to cause so much tension for you and the others. That wasn't my objective of this week. I promise." He smiled at her. "I appreciate your concern, Numbuh 5. I really do. But you shouldn't be worried about me. I'm holding up fine. Besides…" He picked up the container and opened it. "I've got this delicious spaghetti to finish."

She laughed lightly. "Well, Numbuh 5 knows ya like tomato sauce…"

"Who doesn't?" he insisted.

Another laugh followed before she pushed herself off the desk. "Well, I'll leave ya to it." She was about to leave, but she stopped quickly. "Oh, almost forgot. Th' otha's are gonna put on a movie t'night. Wanna watch with us?"

He seemed to ponder at that.

She grinned and poked his shoulder. "C'mon. It'll probably do ya good. Numbuh 3's makin' us some popcorn."

"Well," he said with a noiseless chuckle, "who can resist that temptation?" He nodded to her. "I'll be down in a little bit."

"Good. An' get into somethin' comfortable. You've got a habit of fallin' asleep on th' couch."

Numbuh 1 nodded his head a second time. "All right. I'll see you down there."

With that confirmed, she walked away. All of a sudden, he felt different, and he didn't suppose it to be his hunger growing from the sight and smell of the spaghetti. Before, he felt cold and alone. He didn't become conscious of that until now. Before, he felt like something was missing – something deep down. Now, it was no longer missing, whatever it was. It had found its way back to him. Now, everything his body was feeling was there for him to feel; for he, for a brief moment, felt complete.

"Numbuh 5," he called after her.

She turned back to him just after she'd stepped out of his room, her hand gripping to the doorframe.

"Thanks."

"For th' spaghetti?" Numbuh 5 humorously pointed out with the flick of her wrist. "No big."

He chortled softly, and a smile followed, gracing his lips meaningfully for the first time in too long.

"For everything," he replied.

She grinned back at him and disappeared behind the door.

…**Transmission Interrupted…**

* * *

_No person is your friend who demands your silence, or denies your right to grow._


	17. Perfect Day

**…Transmission Continued…**

"Come on, Numbuh 3. Down, girl."

She refused and kept her arms tight around Mark.

Numbuh 5 rolled his eyes. "Numbuh 3, ya can't keep 'im here forever."

"I can try, can't I?" she questioned, hopefully. She knew all too well how much she would miss this amazing, awesome, handsome boy. She never wanted him to leave. Not ever. Regardless of Numbuh 2's earlier reassurance that he wouldn't be gone forever, and there were worse things in the world, she still felt sad. She had very little reason not to; Mark had become her friend.

She felt the boy in her tight embrace rub her back gently. "I'll miss you too, Numbuh 3. But we'll be seeing each other tonight, remember?"

"I can't believe how fast the week went by," Numbuh 2 proclaimed. "It's like, _poof_, and they're gone."

"Yeah. _Poof_," Numbuh 1 sarcastically agreed. Nobody paid any attention.

"Are ya sure ya don't wan' us ta come t' Moonbase with ya?" Numbuh 4 inquired.

Mark waved it off. "It's no big deal. Besides, it's going to boring, anyway. Numbuh 86 told me all we're going to do is go over some of these files. Just to confirm everything's in order for tonight." He chuckled. "I guess this whole graduation thing is pretty significant, huh."

Numbuh 2 shared his amusement. "They take it more seriously than our time as a Field Operative."

"Well, y' deserve the best ceremony possible," Numbuh 5 point out.

He smiled. "Thanks, everyone. I don't know how I would've managed to get this far without you." His hand went to the back of his head. "How can I thank you guys enough?"

"You can stay with us forever," Numbuh 3 suggested.

"Well," he laughed, "as much as I'd love to, I have a feeling Numbuh 86 won't be happy with it."

"Let's go already!" came Numbuh 86's piercing shriek from inside the COOLBUS. "We haven't got all day!" Impatiently, she tapped her foot and looked at her watch. The team knew her to be edgy and intolerant, but that was just the way things went. It was who they'd come to know all these years. They wouldn't change that for anything. But they would tone it down just a bit.

Numbuh 4 looked over Mark's shoulder at the parked COOLBUS on their front lawn. "Good luck spendin' tha day with 'er."

"I'll try and make the best of it."

Numbuh 1 cleared his throat. "I, um… I hope you enjoyed your stay here, Mark." At that, he extended his arm, holding his open hand out towards the soon-to-be Field Operative, and, with all of his effort, making it mean something. "It really has been a pleasure and a, shall we say, _interesting_ experience having you here."

A smile graced Mark's lips, and he took Numbuh 1's hand in his. "It's been a fantastic experience for me as well," he declared as they shook hands. "And I couldn't have asked for a better Sector."

The team suddenly became bashful.

"Aw, shucks," Numbuh 2 murmured, flicking his wrist, while Numbuh 3 giggled.

"_Come on_!" Numbuh 86 yelled at the top of her lungs.

Mark chuckled yet again. "I should probably get going." He turned and began to walk off, but quickly turned and looked back. "See you guys tonight, I hope."

"We'll be there," Numbuh 1 assured.

And, within that very moment, he disappeared in the COOLBUS as swiftly as the COOLBUS disappeared in the sky, sending back a small twinkle above their heads. Sector V waved towards the ship as it flew off towards the KND Headquarters.

"Bye-bye!" Numbuh 3 called after them.

Numbuh 2 turned to his teammates. "So, what do we do now?"

"Well, we got a whole day before the graduation," Numbuh 5 declared. "What d' ya guys wanna do?"

"Oh! Oh!" the Japanese girl squealed as she hopped in one place and, at the same time, repeatedly clapping her hands together. "Let's go to Wonder Water World."

"Yeah!" Numbuh 4 excitedly agreed.

Numbuh 5 looked towards her leader. "What d' ya say, Numbuh 1?"

Holding his arm with his opposite hand and keeping his eyes on the ground, he pondered. A whole day with just him and his teammates sounded perfect. It was also something he desperately needed. Just some quality time with his friends. Would it change anything before this evening? He had high hopes for it, but he was no psychic.

"Well," he uttered, "I guess it wouldn't be such a bad idea if…"

Abruptly, Numbuh 3 rushed next to him and clasped onto Numbuh 1's arm. His baffled expression went unnoticed to Numbuh 3 as she jumped up and down. "Yay!" she cheered. "Let's go right now! Let's go! Let's go!"

* * *

Their dampened sandals squished as they walked diligently down the path running through the park. Numbuh 3 seemed more excited than any of them, as always, about being there.

"Let's do that again!" she exclaimed.

The team moaned.

"Oh, c'mon," Numbuh 4 grunted. "We went on that Swirly Water Galore a bazillion and one times already."

"Yeah, Numbuh 3. Let's try something else." Numbuh 2 pointed towards one of the rides on his left. "Look. The Super H-2-O Coaster of Wetness looks like fun."

"Numbuh 5 thinks we should take a break. We've been goin' on rides for four hours now."

"That's not fair!" Numbuh 3 griped. "You didn't count the line-ups."

"Come on, Numbuh 3. Aren't you the least bit hungry for some lunch yet?" Numbuh 1 inquired. "I know I am."

The Japanese girl folded her arms in front of her chest and held her head up. "_Well_!" she huffed. "You guys can go ahead and poop out of this party. Come on, Numbuh 4." She grabbed Numbuh 4's arm. "Let's go on the Big Water Dipper."

Numbuh 4, eager to protest because of his stomach's protracted craving for food, found himself in the middle of a lose-lose situation. "Eh… Ah, uh…"

"Great!" Numbuh 2 said in amused approval. "So, you two have fun."

"Yeah. We'll be, um…"

"Over there!" Numbuh 5 pointed in another random direction.

"Bye!" At that, Numbuhs 1, 2 and 5 rushed off.

"_Hey_!" Numbuh 4 yelled after them. "You come back here!"

Numbuh 3 tugged his arm fervently. "Come on, Numbuh 4. Let's get in line," she urged him.

Hanging his head as the others walked towards the food court, he turned around to face her. All hope of liberty was gone, so he might as well make the best of the situation. "Can't we at least go on the Water Dunk of Doom first?" he proposed.

"We'll go on that next," she assured him. "Promise."

He breathed out profoundly and, although not the one for compromise, nodded his head in accord. "Fine."

* * *

Numbuh 60's boots created a soft echo throughout the massive, empty space as he aimlessly paced the stage. His gloved hands stayed snug in his pockets while his eyes wandered, more focused than his back and forth striding. The bleachers were freshly painted and dry, weak foundations were repaired, and the decorations looked great. He was fairly relieved that it was all over and done with. Although he hadn't told Numbuh 362, he was quite held up on work back at the Arctic Base, what with the lack of activity with the villains. Nevertheless, he accepted the role of making sure that everything was in order for the graduation ceremony this evening.

Just after he made another sharp turn on his heel to avoid stepping off the stage, he heard somebody coming up the stairs to the podium. He glanced over his shoulder to see an all-too familiar figure coming down the steps of the bleachers, towards him. "Oh, Mark. Hi. I didn't hear you come in."

"Sorry. Numbuh 86 seemed preoccupied with Numbuhs 44 and 44, so I snuck away for a bit." He sauntered up onto the stage. "So, it's been a while since the last time we saw each other, hasn't it."

"It has. About a week now, right?"

Mark shrugged as he leaned his shoulder against the back wall of the stage.

Numbuh 60 suddenly found himself in an awkward position. With Mark watching him attentively, he couldn't be rude and continue with what he was doing. Wait. What was he doing again? All of his duties were, in general, complete, other than last minute verifications.

He picked the clipboard up off the ground. "So, are you all set for tonight?"

"I suppose so. I must have reviewed my speech over a hundred times. Any suggestions you can offer me to be more prepared?"

"Not really. Just be yourself. I'm sure everybody will love you."

A streak of red appeared across the Italian boy's face. "You really think so?"

"Don't be ridiculous." He sat down at the edge of the stairway, prompting his feet up two steps below. "You're the next big thing around here. You're bound to become a Kids Next Door legendary hero."

His thin lips formed a mere smile before he positioned his body so that it was now his back leaning against the wall, and he stared off to the other side of the auditorium. Flattery was not common for him until he came to the KND. Believe it or not, it was a relatively ironic condition for him. He ran his fingers through his hair and laughed. "Well, I wouldn't say a _hero_…"

Numbuh 60 kept his back to him. "Why not? It's the perfect expression. Sure, you haven't saved the world. _Yet_. But we're expecting some really extreme things from you, Mark." He laughed suddenly. "No pressure, though."

Mark laughed in no response to his joke. "Yeah. Extreme." _Now_ that's_ the right word_.

"So, what about your numbuh?" he questioned. "Any ideas?"

"As strange as it sounds," he replied, "no. Not a clue. I mean, it doesn't really matter, right?"

"Well, you'll be known by it for your whole time in the KND, so I guess it's pretty important."

"Is there a way I could just get a random numbuh?" he questioned. "It doesn't matter all that much to me." He snorted. "Just as long as it isn't too many digits. I don't want it to take a minute just to say my codename."

Numbuh 60 finally turned his body back around to face him as a heartfelt laugh escaped his throat. "I know what _that's_ like." He then nodded. "Sure. You can leave it up to the Code Module. Even if it is just a machine, it sure knows what it's doing."

"And my Sector?"

"The Code Module usually just assigns the Sector randomly, anyway. Although people have a choice, many Sectors are separately developed when a whole bunch of operatives graduate, and some just replace operatives that have turned thirteen."

"I see." Casually, he pushed his body away from the wall, and he slowly, at a snail's pace, strolled towards the Drill Sergeant. "This is so exhilarating."

He raised an eyebrow. "What is?"

"All of this. Me becoming a Kids Next Door operative, finally. It's all so surreal. I've dreamt of this day for so long, and it's finally happening." He laughed. "Am I babbling again?"

"Babble all you like. It's completely understandable," Numbuh 60 confirmed, chuckling as well. "I was just as excited when I joined the Kids Next Door. Of course, I was very young when I went on my first mission." A sigh came forth as he suddenly went into deep thought, clearly reflecting on his memorable past. Snapping out of it at the sight of Mark's amused stare, he quickly said, "So, what about _your_ first mission?"

"_My_ first mission?"

"With Sector V. How did your time go?"

"Oh. Right." A smile appeared on his tanned face. "Fantastic. I sure can't wait to cross paths with them again."

* * *

"Hey, Numbuh 5. Did you bring any extra towels? Mine's soaked."

"In th' bag, Numbuh 2."

Numbuh 2 hurried to the travel bag set upon the table. His hands eagerly dug through its contents until he came across an orange towel. He pulled it out and tapped his face dry with the end of it.

Numbuh 5, meanwhile, took a seat across from Numbuh 1. "Havin' fun, boss?" she laughed. "Y' look worn out."

He laughed in return. "I'd drop right now if I wasn't so hungry."

"Numbuh 5's glad ya decided t' come with us. 'Looked like y' needed a day away from the Kids Next Door."

The young Brit nodded his head. "I'm glad, too. And I did."

"So, what's for lunch?" Numbuh 2 inquired.

"Y' guys want hot dogs or somethin'?"

"Sure," Numbuh 1 agreed.

"Oh! Make mine a chilidog, will you?"

Numbuh 5 signaled with her hand that she already knew as she sauntered away, towards the food court. A brief spray of water particles came over their area, disappointing Numbuh 2 when he realized, after having patted his whole body dry, he had become wet again.

Regardless, he threw the towel over his shoulder and took Numbuh 5's original place. "_So…_?" he drew out, amusingly. "How's it going?"

Numbuh 1 smirked. "Pretty good. I needed this day out."

"We all know you did. We kind 'a thought you were a little tense around Mark. But, now that that's over with, things will to back to normal."

"Yeah. I suppose your right."

A moment of silence passed over the two friends. Numbuh 1 tapped his fingers on the table, hunger slowly but surely becoming victorious over its competition with his eagerness to go on the Big Water Dipper. Numbuh 2 stared up at the sun umbrella set up over their heads.

"So," he began, "why _were_ you so weird around him?"

He was hoping this would not be brought up. All he wanted to do was let it go. It was his immaturity, or precautious instincts, that had gotten the best of him that previous week, and he wanted it to remain in the past. He didn't know how much the past could affect the present, and the future.

"I don't really know, Numbuh 2."

"Sure you do," Numbuh 2 claimed. "Just think about it."

He didn't have to. He very well knew the answer. But he made sure he made it seem like he was thinking. He pretended to think. Until he realized that he actually was thinking about it.

"I… I guess I was…"

"What?" Numbuh 2 was leaning in closer to him.

"…jealous of him."

The pilot was taken aback. "Really?"

"Yeah. I mean, the way you guys acted around him, like he was such an awesome operative. I began to think that you guys believed that he was better. Better than…me."

"And this is coming from the 10 year-old guy who saved the world, like, a dozen times?"

Numbuh 1 only half smiled at that.

"Listen here, Numbuh 1. I'm not really a guy of empathy, but you gotta know this. No matter who comes along, you're still going to be our one and only leader. Nothing's going to ever change that. Not even Mark."

He smiled. "I know." For the first time through their entire conversation, he gazed up to meet his eyes, in spite of the goggles covering them. "Thanks, Numbuh 2."

To their relief of the awkwardness that suddenly developed, Numbuh 5 returned with their lunch. "Two hot dogs and a chilidog. Th' fries aren't ready yet, so someone's gonna have t' go an' wait for 'em."

"On it!" Numbuh 2 immediately volunteered. "I love the smell of fast food." Before he rushed off to the fast food stand, he took the chilidog from the carton remaining in her hands, leaving her with two hot dogs.

She sat down in the seat between Numbuh 1 and Numbuh 2's abandoned seat. "Numbuh 5 knows ya like relish," she proclaimed, holding to him the bottle of relish.

Numbuh 1 took it gratefully. "Almost as much as I like tomato sauce."

At that time, the two of them caught sight of Numbuhs 3 and 4 walking towards their table. Numbuh 4 was completely soaked from head to toe. Even though it was a water park, the two had to laugh at his ready-to-burst-with-anger expression. Even the towel over his shoulders was dripping water.

"Look at the bright side, Numbuh 4," Numbuh 3 cheerfully declared. "Now you're _really_ ready for the Water Dunk of Doom."

Numbuh 5 snickered along with her leader. "What happened to you?"

"Did you guys go on the Water Dunk of Doom?"

"No," Numbuh 4 snapped. "We passed it. Some short cut, Numbuh 3."

"How was I supposed to know that bridge made everybody wet? It was just bad timing."

Numbuhs 1 and 5 continued chortling.

"Yeah. Go on. Laugh. But that's some powerful splash, ya know."

Numbuh 3 simply joined her fellow comrades at the table.

"_All_ righty." Numbuh 2 came back with a tray of various fries. "Three orders of fries, plus two orders of chili-cheese fries." He set them down on the table, and Numbuh 3 was the first to grab the carton of fries.

Numbuh 2 only then noticed the soaking wet Aussie. "What happened to you?"

"Neva mind. Just throw me anotha' towel."

As Numbuh 2 threw him a towel from across the table, Numbuh 3 was smiling. "This is so much fun."

"Some way t' start off the summer," Numbuh 5 added.

"Totally," Numbuh 2 agreed, seating himself between Numbuhs 3 and 5. "Bet 'cha this summer's gonna be even more awesome than any other summer in history."

"Yeah, yeah. Now give me those chili-cheese fries."

Numbuh 5 complied to Numbuh 4's request and slid over one of the two cartons.

"After lunch, we _have_ to go on the Liquefier," Numbuh 1 pointed out, enthusiastically.

"Oh, yeah. Then lets rent the water guns! I wanna squirt Numbuh 5's hat off."

"Not if Numbuh 5 sprays th' goggles off yo' face, first."

"We'll just see about that."

Swiftly, Numbuh 1 felt more than complete; he felt at home. Because this, right here, was home. And he couldn't have asked for anything more in his life. Nothing. For, there and then, he realized that everything he ever wanted, he already had.

There was nothing left to go wrong.

**...Interrupting Transmission…**

* * *

_Win together, lose together; play together, stay together._


	18. A Graduation to Remember

**…Connection Reestablished…**

Down below, directly in the center, there was an empty stage, awaiting the arrival of the head operatives of the KND. All the preparations that were made became necessary as soon as the first operative stepped into the auditorium. The gathered kids seated at the bleachers did not wait patiently for action upon the rostrum before them. All of them chattered on to one another, almost without a care in the world on what was about to happen on the stage.

In the front row, thanks to Numbuh 362's specialized invitation, Numbuhs 1 through 5 sat, receiving a pleasurable view. Numbuh 1 waited tolerantly while the rest of his teammates spoke amongst one anther.

Finally, a girl with red hair and freckles stepped onto the stage. With her hands clamped behind her, she proceeded towards the front of the platform. Once standing directly in front of the microphone, she opened her mouth to speak. "Kids Next Door, I…" She stopped, realizing that the kids assembled throughout the stadium were still in discussion. She did not bother to wait, knowing very well that her impatience frequently tended to take over her moods.

Numbuh 1 smiled, amused, as he watched Numbuh 86 prepare herself for one big scream. Her head tilted up so she was facing the sky, and she screamed, "_Shut up_!" The whole room seemed to shake. Everybody fell into death silence, blinking a couple times, and directed their attention towards the girl at the front.

"Thank you," she said. "Salute your Supreme Leader, Numbuh 362."

The crowd burst into cheers as the Supreme Leader of the KND ascended through a compartment in the stage. Her lips formed a wide grin at the sight of all the kids applauding her.

She threw her fist up in the air and yelled, "Kids Next Door _rule_!"

"Kids Next Door rule, _sir_!" They shouted together.

"At ease, fellow operatives. Now, as you all know, we're here to present…"

The sound of noisy rustling interrupted her. She blinked repeatedly, and then focused her gaze towards the direction of the sound, as did every other operative in the stadium. They watched as Numbuh 4 obliviously continued to struggle to get open the bag of potato chips in his lap, his tongue sticking out at the corner of his mouth.

It was only when a cough sounded that he noticed all eyes on him. For a moment, he simply gave them all a blank stare, at the same time, resuming getting the bag open for his mouth-watering satisfaction. They continued to look at him with matching stares. Finally, he decided to end the discomfort with one rapid attempt. He pulled as hard as he could, and the chips came blasting out like a volcano had just erupted.

"Hehe," Numbuh 2 mustered up the courage to articulate as Numbuh 4 stared into the bag and Numbuh 5 removed a chip from the brim of her cap. "Antioxidants. Gotta seal 'em nice and tight." Receiving no response, he slumped back into his chair.

Numbuh 362 waved it off. "As I was saying, we are all here to present to the Kids Next Door our graduating student of the year. He is acknowledged for his ultimate abilities in butt-kicking. Today, Mark Ashlock is our graduating Cadet, and we wish him well as he goes on from the Cadets Next Door to becoming, officially, a Kids Next Door Field Operative.

"For those of you don't know about Mark's accomplishments, he was a boy that instantly stood out amongst all the other trainees at the Arctic Base…"

As their Supreme Leader spoke to the Kids Next Door, Numbuh 3 looked at her Sector's leader.

"Hey Numbuh 1? You're not sad, are you?"

Numbuh 1 looked at her and gave her a weak smile.

She patted his head. "Don't be so down in the dumps. We're going to miss him too."

"Miss him?" Numbuh 4 claimed with query. "It's not like he's goin' t' anotha' planet."

"Shh!"

Numbuh 4 spun around to face Numbuh 2. "But she-"

"Shh!" Numbuh 5 interrupted.

"Yeah but-"

"_Shh_!" hissed the kids surrounding him in unison.

Numbuh 4 stuck out his lower lip and glared at the kids behind him. "_Shhhhh_!" he hissed back.

"Now, without further adieu," Numbuh 362 concluded, "please help me welcome our latest Cadets Next Door graduate, Mark Ashlock."

Numbuh 362 joined Numbuh 86 by stepping off to one side of the sage, turning to face where the exceptional soon-to-be field operative was expected to enter from. The multitude of operatives erupted into cheers at his name, including the five kids at the front. These cheers only amplified as Mark's figure became visible on stage. Numbuh 2 put his fingers in his mouth and released a shrill of a whistle.

The boy appeared to be on the verge of tearing up. He and his team knew how bad Mark wanted this. How bad he wanted to be like his brother. But Numbuh 1 couldn't help but wonder if that was the only reason he wanted this. Unless he'd already mentioned something else. It wasn't as if the two of them had gotten along the best that week. He would probably forget to ask the others later, but he gave himself credit for being curious in the first place. He felt his hands beginning to numb from clapping so hard.

Mark had a bright smile on his face when he came before the podium. He glanced back and received a thumbs-up from Numbuh 86 and a proud nod from Numbuh 362. The cheering eventually died down, despite those few continuing to mock animal voices and let out shrilling screams.

Mark laughed when it took them too long to stop. "Wow. Heh… Thank you."

"_Mark I love you_!"

Numbuh 1 laughed at that, as did many others.

Mark gave the unknown girl in the back a small wave along with an amused and bewildered smile. "Thanks." And then all of his old emotions came back when silence followed. "Thank you all. So much. You don't know what it means to me to be here." He looked down for a moment. "Really. It's an honor – No, a privilege to be upon this stage before you all. Before the Kids Next Door."

"_Woo_!"

He laughed again. "I…" He looked down, then back up. "I came into the Arctic Base knowing exactly what I was aiming for. My brother was- _is_ my hero. One of the top operatives in the KND at his time. Heck, people call him 'legendary'. The truth is that he taught me everything I know to this day." He breathed in, realizing that he'd just rambled without taking a break. "After he turned against the KND on his thirteenth birthday, I'll admit, I was both angry and disappointed with him. But that was how I realized something."

He paused. Everyone waited. "I realized, then, that I'm not my brother. I'm Mark Ashlock. And I lead my own life. I couldn't be luckier to be a kid. And I promise you this. That I will not rest until the sworn duties of the Kids Next Door bestowed upon me are fulfilled, and the battle for our rights will continue until granted, or I am not worthy of such honorability. This I swear to you, Kids Next Door: We will prevail."

They cheered him like they've never cheered anyone before, knowing, convinced, that the boy before them was to be their latest legend. Numbuh 1 had on an admiring, confident smile as he clapped his hands together. _I took in that Cadet._ He regretted his past negative attitude, but forgave himself as he remembered that this moment, right here, right now, would be a moment he would cherish forever. Why the Kids Next Door fell for this boy so easily, it was difficult to explain. Why he would be a legend, words could never sum up completely. But if one thing was to be said about this moment, it was this: Mark soon to be a hero.

He looked at his team, his dear team, whom without he would be lost. They saw Mark's potential as well as he did. They praised him, looked up to him, and loved him. That's when Numbuh 1 suddenly realized. _Mark is a Kids Next Door icon. _He would be the next Numbuh 274, the next Numbuh 9…

The next Numbuh 12.8.

"Mark," Numbuh 362 said, "do you swear to battle adult tyranny without cause, without fail, and without rest, except for cookie breaks?"

Mark nodded, his hands folded behind him. "Yes, Mam. I do."

"Very good. You may now insert your genetic material into the Code Module, and register the Super Incredibly Big Computer-Ma-Bob."

Carefully, Mark took his finger and stuck it up his nostril. Numbuh 1 silently laughed at the silly tradition. His amusement faltered when Mark seemed to take a while to get his DNA out of his nose. When he did, he held it up for all to see. "I choose whatever number the Code Module decides for me," Mark proclaimed. And all his dreams came true the second he stuck his finger into the Code Module.

The machine began to glow, and the computer voice came on.

"_Genetic material accepted. Commencing upload to Super Incredibly Big Computer-Ma-Bob._"

Everybody was in fascination when the Code Module sent a beaming electrical current towards the large machine above their heads. Numbuhs 1 through 5 joined hands and looked towards one another with pride.

"_Welcome to the Kids Next Door, operative_ Number 1._ You shall serve kids everywhere from your Treehouse headquarters as leader of _Sector V."

**…Interrupting Transmission…**

* * *

_The trick is in what one emphasizes. We either make ourselves miserable, or we make ourselves happy. The amount of work is the same._


	19. How?

**…Transmission Continued…**

_How did this happen?_ he kept asking himself over and over again. He knew how it happened. He couldn't get it out of his head. He just wanted to know _how_ how it happened. Or rather, _why_ it happened. Perhaps it was punishment for a bad deed of his, or maybe some Higher Power was just messing with him for the fun of it. This couldn't stay as is. It just couldn't. It was not in any way fair. Not one bit. Mark was a good guy, sure. But he was literally taking his life away. And for what? For his brother, who happened to be a Kids Next Door traitor? So _he_ had to make the payment for Mark's common desire?

He looked up from behind the darkness of his palms pressed against his face. He could see other people peeking into the room, at him. _Mind your own business,_ he would have said. They were either curious or concerned about his state, but he knew it was only cruel curiosity; heck, they were probably pleasantly entertained by his suffering. _Either do something about this or get lost._ They just kept staring, and only then did he believe their sincerity. Not one of them knew what to say or how to comfort him. He couldn't blame them. He wasn't easy to comfort.

But how? How could it happen? How did they let it happen? How could they let all that he cared be taken away so easily?

* * *

**…45 Minutes Ago…**

"_What?!_"

"H-How can that be?" Numbuh 1 stuttered, flabbergasted.

"Yeah, that can't be right!" Numbuh 4 exclaimed.

It looked as if that everybody in the stadium was as stunned as Sector V was. Including Numbuh 362. "I… I'm not sure," she replied truthfully. "Something like this has never happened before."

"It's gotta be a malfunction," Numbuh 5 suggested.

"Impossible," Numbuh 65.3 proclaimed. "Kids Next Door technicians always run multiple tests to ensure that the Code Module is operating properly."

Numbuh 1 was up out of his seat and making his way onto the stage, his team following behind him. "Surely there must be some kind of mistake. Something can be done, right? We can reinsert his DNA into the Code Module and modify his status…"

"I'm sorry, Numbuh 1." Numbuh 362 sounded sincere. "It's not that simple. We're not allowed to alter the Code Module manually."

"You should check if Numbuh 1's DNA is still in there," Numbuh 74.239 suggested. "Perhaps it was somehow lost."

Two operatives, one scientist and one technician, rushed onto the stage and began to examine the Code Module.

Numbuh 4 smiled to his leader. "Oh, don't sweat it, Numbuh 1."

"Yeah," Numbuh 2 agreed. "It's probably just a mistake. They'll figure it out."

The KND technician looked up and Numbuh 362. "It's still in here, sir."

Numbuh 2 patted Numbuh 1's back. "Nice knowin' ya, bud."

"Can't ya do anythin'?" Numbuh 5 insisted "It's not just his numbuh; it's his position. Ya can't just replace 'im like that."

Numbuh 3 waved her hand in the air. "Oh, oh! Numbuh 362, maybe you can take Mark's DNA out and just put it back in."

"No, you can't," Numbuh 86 confirmed. "Once the DNA's removed, the Code Module won't accept that person's DNA again. It was programmed that way."

As soon as the Code Module had announced Mark's placement in the Kids Next Door, Numbuh 1 had suddenly gotten this extremely cold chill all over his body. It seemed to travel from the back of his spine to his shoulders, and then a shiver. When Numbuh 86 said those words, he received that same chill, like it had instantly become winter inside of him. He turned his stare towards Mark. He was standing aside, appearing rather dazed and confused himself. Numbuh 1 badly wondered what he was thinking.

"There's gotta be a way," Numbuh 5 muttered. "There's just gotta be."

"Yeah. If ya can make stupid rules like that, there should be a rule about operatives takin' other operatives' numbuhs."

"Don't you think if there was a rule like that, I would do everything I can to prevent things like this from happening? I've studied the Kids Next Door rule book; I know it backwards and forwards. It's not like we deal with these kinds of problems everyday."

"I just don't understand." Numbuh 74.239 was scratching his head. "There's no explanation for it."

"There may be one."

Numbuh 86 looked at her Supreme Leader. "What do ya mean, sir?"

"Page 296, Rule number two thousand and thirty-seven: If in the event that an operative does not wish to decide his or her own number or position, it must be left up to the Code Module to decide for the operative."

"Um… That proves nothing, sir."

Numbuh 362 rubbed her chin. "The Code Module is the most reliable mechanism in the Kids Next Door. It's properly taken care of, managed, and tested constantly. Plus, it's revamped every two years. Am I right, Numbuh 65.3?"

"That's right, Mam. It's updated in efficiency every two Augusts."

"And there's no possible way it could malfunction?"

"I checked it just now, sir," the technician proclaimed. "It's in perfect condition. And the DNA's there, both Numbuh 1 and Mark's."

"What's your conclusion, sir?" Numbuh 60 inquired.

Sector V literally leaned forward with anxiety.

"The only explanation I can think of is that the Code Module assigned Mark Numbuh 1's position knowing that it was doing just that."

"And what the heck does that mean?" Numbuh 1 demanded.

Numbuh 362's expression faltered from its thoughtfulness. "I mean that it intends to have Mark replace you as an operative."

"Well why in the world would it intend that?"

"I can't answer that, Numbuh 2. But all I know is that this mechanism was designed to pretty much have a personality of its own. And with that comes its own decisions. If this is the decision it has come to, I am in no obligation to amend it."

Silence was what followed. Bitter, painful silence that Numbuh 1 desperately wished to be broken by somebody's logical objection. Anything, really.

He got it.

"So what about Nigel, then?" Numbuh 5 questioned. "What does it plan for him?"

Numbuh 362 sighed. "I can't answer that either. All I know is that, if it's not a malfunction, which we already know it isn't, then it's a practical decision made up by the Code Module."

When shock was gone, Numbuh 1 turned to the other thing he had left inside of him: anger. "Does _this_ seem in any way _practical_ to you?" he shouted at her. "You can't _do_ this! You can't just let an operative literally replace me like this!"

"I'm sorry, Nigel." The always-proud Supreme Leader looked down with blameworthy, dismayed eyes. "I don't know what else to do."

She turned to Mark. And with a deep breath, she said the words that would begin it all.

"Welcome to the Kids Next Door, Numbuh… 1."

* * *

_How?_ he asked himself again. And then again. _How? How, how, how?_ And then, _Why?_

He didn't want to hate Numbuh 362 for sticking by the book. He didn't want to hate Mark for not being able to do anything about it. He didn't want to hate anybody. But the trouble was that he did. He hated everybody. He especially hated the Code Module. He couldn't get his mind off the fact that they let a machine that could fail to work at any time decide something so huge. It was a machine, for goodness sake. Machines get programmed. They get fixed, they work for people to get tasks done, to contain memory, to help with his history research projects that was due the next day. They don't run things. They shouldn't be obliged to make these kinds of verdicts.

He told her this. He told her all of this when he spoke to her after the ceremony. But Numbuh 362 had assured him that things are done by the book. And the book had no plan for this, but it did say something about the Code Module being higher in command that she was. Well, that's not what she had said, but it's what she was pretty much implying. But she thought she was being fair when she offered him another resolution. "Nothing can resolve this," he had told her. But she had seemed to accept the retort.

Nigel had started watching his thumbs begin a wrestling match against each other when his teammates snuck into the room. None of them knew what to say. None but Numbuh 3, of course.

"You gotta try these oatmeal chocolate chip cookies." She held to him a cookie. "They'll make you feel much better."

Numbuh 5 took a seat next to him. "How you holdin' up?"

Numbuh 4 sat down on the other side of him.

Nigel didn't look up. "Terribly."

"Look at th' bright side, mate," Numbuh 4 declared. "At least y' still got us."

"And your still a part of Sector V," Numbuh 2 added. "That's good, right?"

Numbuh 5 leaned over to look at him directly. "It's just gonna take some gettin' used to, that's all."

"No," Nigel claimed. "You're wrong. This isn't just something I can get over, or get used to. Getting a two-wheeler to replace my favorite old tricycle, that's something I got used to. But I've been known as Numbuh 1, leader of Sector V for four years. _Four_ years."

"Four and a half, actually."

They all eyed Numbuh 3.

"Sorry. Continue."

He sighed and looked at his teammates. "Being a leader to you guys, that was what I was all about. Every day was about guiding you guys on missions, keeping everything in order, protecting the four of you as a leader is required to. It was more than my job; it was my life. It was who I was." He felt his voice cracking. "All of a sudden, I can't be that person anymore."

Nobody knew what to say.

But Numbuh 2 gave it a shot. "It's only a tenth of a number away. Now instead of one one, you've got _two_ ones. Double what you had before."

"Numbuh 1 point 1 doesn't quite cut it for me, Hoagie." He leaned forward and rested his chin in his palm. "Just face it. Nothing's going to be the same."

A sweep of sorrow wafted over them when they realized just that. Numbuh 5 put her arm around his shoulders in hopes of comforting him. Numbuhs 2 and 4 ogled each other in desperation and despair. Numbuh 3, the one always willing to bring joy where there is sadness, held out the cookie for him yet again. Numbuh 1 stared at it, then at her for a moment before accepting the cookie.

**…Interrupting Transmission…**

* * *

_Expect nothing, and you will not be disappointed._


	20. Enemies United

**…Continuing Transmission…**

"Um…" he murmured, catching their attention. The five of them looked at who was to replace their friend as leader. He appeared nearly as troubled as all of them. "I'm… I'm sorry to interrupt. But would it be okay if I had a moment with Numbuh 1…point 1- with Nigel? Please?"

After giving the saddened kid a final sympathetic gesture, they complied to the request. Numbuh 4 stayed behind, remaining seated next to his friend, patting his back, before Numbuh 2 pulled him out. They stepped out and closed the door of the reception room, leaving the two of them, the old and the new Numbuh 1, in the hallway alone.

_Oh, how I hate silence, _Nigel concluded.

Mark stepped forward, keeping his head down but his eyes on the distressed boy. "Can we talk?"

Nigel pressed his fingers together between his knees and looked away. "You're the boss," he replied.

"Listen. I'm sorry. This wasn't my idea. I didn't…" An exhale escaped him. "I'm very sorry, Nigel."

In response, Nigel rubbed the back of his head.

"I don't expect you to forgive me; I understand if you don't. But please don't think I wanted to do this to you. I would never hurt anybody like this by my own will. Not ever. You must believe that. Be angry at me. I understand that. But just believe that none of this was my idea."

"It's okay," he replied with a weak smile. "I can't be angry at you, because that would be wrong. You told Numbuh 362 – you told everybody – that you didn't care what numbuh you got. This wasn't in your control. You left it up to the Code Module, and the Code Module came to its decision." His gaze directed towards space, or so Mark assumed. "I'm just…scared, is all."

Mark reeled back. "Of what?"

A shrug of the shoulders confirmed his uncertainty. "I don't know. Change, I guess. I just want things to be the same all the time. I look for adventure, sure, but sooner or later I expect things to go back to normal. But now…nothing will be normal again."

In response, Mark turned away. He was here to give Nigel comfort, and now he had no idea how he was going to do that when he knew that all of this was of his own fault. Not entirely, but still. He had literally taken basically all that mattered to Nigel away by his own accord. Mark couldn't possibly be his source of comfort.

"Do forgive me, Nigel."

A terrible silence followed that Nigel felt he had no choice but to break. "It'll be something I'll have to get used to," he remarked. "It'll take some time, but it'll happen. I forgive you, Mark. I do."

Nigel sensed Mark knew that he was saying this to get rid of some of his guilt.

"Besides," he continued, "the others don't exactly loathe your company."

Mark smiled at that. "They're good people. Good operatives."

Nigel nodded. "They're great." He looked straight at Mark. "I have no doubt in my mind that you're going to treat them well as their leader."

"I will do everything in my power to protect Sector V; but I can never match up to you."

"You'll do great. I know it."

"But you have the experience that I don't. That makes you the much better leader of the two of us."

"You're new. You're bound to get the hang of it."

Mark's hand went behind his head. "I sure hope so. I spent my whole life taking orders from others. Now I'm going to be the one giving orders."

Nigel chuckled. "Ironic for the both of us, isn't it."

"It really is." Mark sat down next to him in the same position: legs spread out, elbows on his knees, watching his thumbs wrestle. "Looks like we'll both have something to get used to."

He nodded at him. "If you ever need some pointers, feel free to ask me."

A smile appeared across Mark's face. "Thanks. I'll keep that in mind."

Yet another silence followed, but this one suddenly seemed slightly more comfortable.

Nigel sat up straight and caught Mark's gaze. "Did I congratulate you yet?"

* * *

**…Three Weeks Ago…**

Father drew away the purple curtain and stepped through. He surveyed his surroundings and smiled. Soon, everybody would understand the reason for his enthusiasm, and soon, they would all finally be satisfied. He had little doubt of that. What concerned him was that they were all just like him. Not quite as smart, of course, but with the same mindset. Unlike children, they are not open to new ideas, nor are they interested in being told that they are wrong. But there was one thing that this meeting would do: It would unite them all once again, something they'd lost after the incident with his father. That would make this that much harder, knowing that he was the one to blame for that.

"There he is!" called a man from the audience.

Everyone looked at him.

"What gives?" Mr. Boss exclaimed. "I'm supposed to be in a pitch meeting right now."

"And I have to get back to my laboratory and figure out a way to finally create…theperfectsnow-cone!" Professor XXXL exclaimed, holding up a snow-cone, only to have the fruit-flavored snow suddenly replaced by a flying golf ball with a discontented-looking man's face on it.

"Pipe down, Doctor Big-Mouth!"

"That's Professor Triple Extra Large, to you!"

"Settle down, my fellow villains," Father proclaimed with as much optimism as he could muster. "Today is the start of a great day, as I have gathered you all to share some good news. Now, as always, I have developed a very mischievous, very _evil_ plan."

The crowd of evil adults moaned and complained aloud with utter frustration.

"Again?" the Common Cold whined.

"Sorry, but your plans for the destruction of the Kids Next Door, they just… They never work." Knightbrace declared.

"What makes ye think this plan is any different than all the other ones?" Stickybeard demanded.

Father smirked. "Believe me, my fellow adults. You will not be disappointed this time."

"Doesn't that sound familiar Mr. Wink?"

"Indeed it does, Mr. Fibb."

Father frowned when they began to disdainfully murmur. This wasn't going as well as he'd hoped. But he remembered to stick to his original scheme. "Now listen up, everybody. I assure you that this plan is not like any other."

They grumbled their sarcastic 'yeah right's.

"So out with it, then," Robin Food insisted. "It's almost lunch time in the elementary schools."

Again, Father smiled. "Why tell you when I can show you?"

With that, he stepped aside to reveal a figure of a person behind him, identity undisclosed by the shadow of the curtain above darkening his features. The figure stepped out and divulged himself to be a young man with shabby black hair and Battle Ready Armor.

"A kid?" Count Spankulot said inquisitively.

"A teenager," Father corrected.

"What about him?" Chester demanded.

His pipe seemed to rise somewhat. "This young man is the key to the final extermination of the Kids Next Door."

"What makes you so sure?" Gramma Stuffum

"You'll just have to have faith in me," the teenager said. A few other teenagers, including Cree Lincoln, revealed themselves from under the curtain's shadow. "I assure you all; I _will_ get you what you want."

Mr. Boss had a raised eyebrow. "What's your name?"

"Ashlock," he replied. "Gabriel Ashlock."

**…Transmission Interrupted…**

* * *

_Remember this: At night, you can only see as far as your headlights shine._


	21. Right and Wrong Decisions

…**Transmission Continued…**

Numbuh 362 was twiddling her pen between her two fingers when Numbuh 86 strode into her office.

"Sir," she announced, "The supplies are all packed up and ready to be taken to the Storage Base. With your permission, we'll send it down."

No response. The Supreme Leader simply flipped her pen into her other hand.

"Um… Sir?"

"Hm? Yeah, sure Numbuh 86. Permission granted."

Numbuh 86 cocked her head and came closer to her desk. "Something wrong?"

The pen was dropped down onto the desk as Numbuh 362 leaned back into her chair. "I feel like I've done a terrible thing, Fanny."

She looked at her feet, not sure of a way to respond.

"I mean, should I have just let Nigel be replaced like that?"

"You had no other choice, sir."

"But I'm the Supreme Leader. I should have the choice. After all, I run things around here."

Numbuh 86 stepped up so she was facing her Supreme Leader directly. "Sir, I've been around for many years. I've seen all the Supreme Leaders come to face this kind of thing. But you must know, even as the Supreme Leader, we're not always given choices. The Code Module has been around for centuries. And, 'as operatives of this great organization, we must fulfill our obligation-'"

"'-To respecting and honoring the Code Module and its decisions.' I'm well aware of the Module Pledge, Fanny."

"So then what's the problem?"

"The problem is that it obviously made a stupid decision last week."

"Nothing's ever perfect."

"Don't you get it, Fanny?" She stood. "The Code Module made the dim-witted decision of replacing Nigel with Mark as Numbuh 1, which may very well have been a malfunction of some sort, and I wasn't able to overcome that order. Is that in any way rational?"

"Sir, I know it can be difficult, but it's your responsibility to stay by the book."

She dug deep for a manner of further protest, but she couldn't argue with the rules. Rules are rules. "Yeah, I suppose you're right."

"Of course I'm right. I'm always right."

"I just feel sorry for Sector V. I can't imagine how they must feel about all this."

* * *

"Wahoo! Numbuh 4 leads tha team into victory with only five seconds on tha clock!"

Numbuh 2 tossed his football helmet aside. "Yeah, well, football's not really my sport anyway."

"That's obvious," Numbuh 3 declared as she took off her helmet to reveal an expression equally disappointed-looking as her teammate's.

Numbuhs 1 and 4 high-fived each other, aware of undeniable victory.

A high-pitched whistle rang out. Numbuh 5 was returning with a large bag, her arm extended to show it to her teammates. "Put th' game on pause, guys. Numbuh 5's got th' goods." By this, she prompted a stampede of hungry amateur football players. In no time at all, loud chewing was destroying the serene peacefulness of the empty park.

"So what's next on the agenda?" Numbuh 2 asked through his mouthful of peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

Numbuh 1 swallowed. "I should be getting back to the Treehouse. I have lots to do tonight. We're going to need some sort of penetration plan if we're going to infiltrate the teenager's hideout tomorrow."

"Yeah, plus Ah got a kajillion math questions ta do."

Numbuh 5 rolled her eyes. "You mean the ones assigned to us last week."

"Yeah, those ones."

Numbuh 3 held up a sandwich. "Nobody tried the tuna sandwiches Numbuh 4 made."

"That's the reason, Numbuh 3."

Numbuh 1 chuckled as Numbuh 4 stuck his tongue out at Numbuh 2.

"Aw, come on," she assured, holding up the tuna sandwich. "It can't be that bad." And with that, she took a big bite out of it, chewing curiously until her face twisted into a look of disgust and horror. "Looks like we're back to square one then," she proclaimed, looking at the sandwich.

Numbuh 5 glanced at her watch. "Well, after this we probably should be headin' back. It ain't safe t' leave him in th' Treehouse alone for this long."

"Poor guy's probably hungry."

"Perfect." Numbuh 4 pulled another sandwich out of the bag. "He can have my tuna sandwich."

The others looked at each other.

"What's say we stop by _Bobby Burgers_?"

"Sounds good."

* * *

He noticed the photograph. It was kind of hard to miss; it was taped right in front of where he worked. It stood out no matter how many times he tried to blend it in. He surrounded it with colorful photographs and posters of people he idolized and cars he was saving up for. But nothing made him not notice the photograph every time he sat down at that desk. Usually, he noticed it and ignored it. This time, he grabbed it and threw it as hard as he could. A useless attempt. It simply fluttered to the floor not even two feet away. It landed with the front facing up. His ten year-old self and his ten year-old childhood friends stared back at him.

Smiling, he picked it up off the floor. It wasn't a bad reminder. It was what kept him on his mission. He admired the hair he had. He'd always had great hair. He was proud of the way he used to always comb it to one side, mess it up again, and then straighten it back with his fingers. As a kid, he used to style his brother's hair. He ended up giving him a mullet by mistake once. His mother wasn't happy about that. As he sat back down, he stuck the photograph back to where it was.

"Hey, Gabe?" The door creaked open. "Got a minute?"

"Yeah, sure. Come on in."

Cree walked in with a clipboard. "Just making sure you got no problems with those Moonbase blueprints. Locate a route yet?"

"Working on it." Gabriel watched the photograph flutter back onto his desk. He should replace that tape.

"Need any help?"

"N'aw, I'm good."

She watched him flip the photograph so the image was facing downwards. She felt for him. "It was his decision to join."

"He doesn't know what he's getting into."

"Mark's a smart kid."

"Yeah, but he's still a kid. How many kids do you know that are as smart as he is?"

"Good point," she said, knowing she probably shouldn't mention her little sister.

"I'm worried for him."

"When he's thirteen, he'll start to get it."

Gabriel leaned back in his chair. "You know, when we were in the Kids Next Door, I didn't have a single thought of ever betraying them."

"None of us did, Gabe."

"So what about Mark? Being a kid was a pain and all, but still. We had some good times together."

"Not necessarily because of the KND."

"Then why?"

"Because we were together, all of us." She punched him in the arm. "Mark's got friends, Gabe, don't you worry about that."

"I guess. But it just won't be the same for him as it was for me. When I was his age, I really hoped he would join the Kids Next Door like me. I'm glad he gets the chance to. But the thing is..." He sighed. "The thing is that he's not like other kids."

"Exactly." Cree walked around him, her arms crossed. "He's smart, responsible, loyal, he's got great hair…"

"Thanks to me."

She laughed as she leaned against his shoulders from behind him. "And he's got a good brother."

Gabriel tilted his head back and smiled up at her. "Thanks."

"You're right that he's different. But it's obviously better that way."

He rolled up a large piece of paper and handed it to his longtime friend. "Here. See if they'll go with this."

She accepted them and left. Gabriel got out the tape to replace the worn-out ones stuck to the back of the photograph.

* * *

Numbuh 2 pretended to threaten the balance of the tray of fast-food.

"Quit it, Numbuh 2," Numbuh 5 insisted.

"Wait, oh, _oh_!" He regained balance with a smile on his face. "Okay, I'm good."

She rolled her eyes and turned the knob. "Hey, Nigel? We're coming in."

"So get your pants back on and put down the microphone."

Numbuh 5 smacked him, this time making him really lose balance of the tray.

"I'm decent. Come in."

They did. She pushed the door open for them to step in, and there he was. Sitting upright on the bed, holding that open book in front of him. He was never much of a reader. He read guide books and formal stuff, but not often would he pick up a novel and read it unless it was for school. None of them even knew what he was reading.

"What'cha doin'?"

"Reading."

"'The book any good?"

"Yeah."

"Wanna come down and watch TV with us?"

"No thank you."

Numbuh 5 put her hands on her hips. "Why not?"

"I don't feel like it."

"Ya got nothin' else t' do."

"I'm reading."

Numbuh 2, doing his best to avoid any conflict, quickly placed the tray next to his old friend. "I took out the pickles like you like it."

"Thanks," he replied, closing the book while using his finger as a bookmark, and pulled the tray closer to him.

As Numbuh 2 made his way to the exit, he passed Numbuh 5 with a concerned expression. "We should just leave him alone," he said, making sure he was only loud enough for her to hear.

"It's been a week, Numbuh 2," she answered

"I guess he's just not ready. Let's just go."

And so Numbuh 2 led the way, Numbuh 5 following with a slight sense of disappointment. She looked back and saw that he had discarded the hamburger and fries and was back to his book. At the doorway, she stopped, Numbuh 2 stopping on instinct as well.

"Y' know, Nigel, y' ain't alone on this. If you'll just let us get ya through this, y' wouldn't be hurtin' so much."

"I told you I'm fine about it."

"Uh… Numbuh 5, we should probably-"

"If you're fine, then why won't ya just start acting normal?"

Numbuh 1.1 closed the book. "Can it, Abby?" he shouted. "Can things really ever be normal again?"

"I know how weird it is right now, but just give it some time. You'll get used to it."

"I've tried. Heaven knows how I tried."

"Seriously, Numbuh 5, we should just-"

"You're not trying hard enough. Stayin' in this room ain't gonna help you get back on yo feet. Just come downstairs with us and…"

They were taken aback when Numbuh 1.1 threw the book to the ground. "For goodness sake, will you get off my back? I can handle this on my own!"

She had snapped him. Usually she did that by teasing him, or by some sort of silly argument. But never when she was trying to help him out. Numbuh 2 shrunk away, trying to hint to Numbuh 5 that now was the time to leave him alone. Without even noticing him, she complied.

"Fine. Stay in here." She turned around and followed Numbuh 2 out. "See ya tomorrow."

The door closed, trapping his mixed emotions in the room with him. He sat down on the floor, his back against the wall, knees pulled to his chest. Finally, he did what he'd wanted to do for so long; he cried.

…**Interrupting Transmission…**

* * *

_The important thing is this: To be able at any moment to sacrifice what we are for what we could become._


	22. End of the Beginning

**…Continuing Transmission…**

"_Mission alert. Mission alert. This is not a drill. Repeat, this is not a drill._"

Numbuh 4 groaned and pulled the covers over his head. Why did the adults choose the evenings to do something stupid and annoying? And a _Friday_, the one evening he had to catch up on sleep for the sleep he lost staying up doing last-minute homework? They had a whole day to get their butts kicked, but no, they wait until the Kids Next Door are too tired to care.

"_Mission alert. Mission alert._"

"All right, all right, Ah'm up." With the blaring sirens and the blinding red lights flashing in his room, five more minutes of sleep would be impossible. He threw the sheets off his still fatigued body and jumped over the ropes of the wrestling rink he slept in, and slid down the ladder. When reaching the floor beneath him, he landed in a professional stance, and then threw his fists into the air. "Kids Next Butt-Kickers, _go_!" With that he ran out, his arms extended at his sides, to where he and his team often went to when there was a mission alert. As he was, since he happened to be passing his friend Numbuh 2's room, he quickly skid to a halt, backtracked, and poked his head in. Was that snoring? It came from the cockpit of a plane, where Numbuh 2 slept.

He put his hands on his hips. If he had to wake up, so did everybody else. He found the nearest object, which so happened to be a wrench, and threw it as hard as he could. It soared up and into the cockpit. A loud clank followed soon after. "Ow!" Numbuh 2 made himself visible, rubbing his head tenderly. "Numbuh 4, what's the big-"

"It's a cruddy mission alert, cheese boy. Get yo butt down here before I find a hammer."

Knowing that Numbuh 4 doesn't kid when it comes to a use of violence, Numbuh 2 quickly complied. The two of them rushed to the briefing room, grains of sleep still in their eyes. They soon joined Numbuhs 3 and 5, awaiting instructions. Numbuh 3 could not stop a long yawn.

"Ah swear, if this is tha Toiletnator again, Ah'm gonna take one of those toilet paper rolls and shove it up his-"

"There's no need for that, Numbuh 4." Numbuh 1 ascended from the hole in the stage floor. "And this isn't the Toiletnator. It seems that the teen ninjas are on the move. They've already picked on three kids in the local arcade. One of them was given…an atomic wedgie."

They all gasped.

"We gotta take them down."

"What's the plan?"

Numbuh 1 pressed a button and a 3D hologram of a playground appeared above the large tire they sat around. "Their next move looks like it's going to be at the shore side park. There are at least half a dozen kids hanging out there on Friday nights. They'll probably be next."

"How many teenagers, Numbuh 1?"

"Four at the moment. But they might rally up some more soon, so we've got to move fast. We'll position ourselves behind the… Where's Numbuh 1.1?"

Numbuhs 2, 3 and 4 looked around.

Numbuh 5 slouched into her seat. "Probably still mopin' in his room."

"I can go get him," Numbuh 2 suggested, standing up.

"No need, Numbuh 2. I'm right here."

Indeed he was. But he hadn't just come in. He had been there the entire time. Just standing there in the doorway. Leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed. "Keep going," he muttered. "I'm listening."

"Nonsense. Come and join us."

Numbuh 1.1 shook his head. "I can hear fine from over here."

"Just keep goin', Numbuh 1," Numbuh 5 said. She turned around to glare at the boy in the corner. "He's just so used t' lookin' down on us, that's all."

In response, she received a blank stare, undisclosed by his sunglasses. For the past week, nobody knew at all what he was thinking, what he was doing. He felt that it was better that way for now. But to prove her wrong, which he suddenly felt the need to do, he walked over and sat between Numbuhs 2 and 3. They all stared at him, unsure of what to say.

"You were saying, Numbuh _1_?" How strange it sounded coming out of his mouth.

Numbuh 1 cleared his throat nervously. "Well, we'll position ourselves behind the swings, and then make our way to…"

The others listened attentively while Numbuh 1.1 adjusted his sunglasses to hide his eyes.

* * *

Gabriel picked up the speaker connected by a plastic-coated wire to the control system. He raised it to his lips that had formed a smirk. "You guys ready for this?"

A fuzzy sound, and then a voice. "Ready when you are, chief."

"Then let's do this," he said. He steered the highly-advanced bicycle to the left and towards the park. Those Kids Next Door would be there by now. Right according to plan.

* * *

Numbuh 1 examined the area through the spyglasses. "You guys ready for this?"

Numbuh 2 poked his head out from the leaves at the very top of the tree. "Ready over here, chief."

"Ready, Teddy!" Numbuh 3 said, giggling.

"All right, everyone." He looked at Numbuh 1.1, who was loading his soup cannon; he did not return his stare. "Numbuh 4, are you in position?"

The PIPER responded with static for a moment before Numbuh 4's voice came through. "Yup. No sign of the teenagers yet."

"What about on your side, Numbuh 5?"

"Nothin'. 'Kids are still on the tire swing, but no teenagers."

"Keep your eyes peeled. They're bound to show up soon."

Numbuh 1.1 finally looked at him, his expression perplexed. "And you know this for a fact?"

Before an answer could be given through his own words, Numbuh 4 responded on his behalf. "Numbuh 1, teenagers at 10 o'clock! Past my bedtime, thanks very much."

"How many?"

"Two of 'em. Headin' straight towards the tire swing."

"Numbuh 5, keep a close eye on them. Numbuh 4, sneak behind the slide and get ready to attack. The rest of us will be there shortly."

Numbuh 3 jumped down from the treetop she shared with Numbuh 2. "Yay! Tire swing fun time- Whoa!" Numbuhs 1 and 1.1 pulled her into the bush they hid in and hushed her. The four of them listened attentively as a voice came from the teeter-totter, where two children played joyfully, their parents at the picnic table way on the other side of the park, too far and lost in conversation to notice the teenagers in Battle Ready Armor coming towards them.

"Well, well, what d' we got here?" said one of them.

The children on the teeter-totter quickly climbed off, making sure their backs did not once face the two teenagers. They reeled back, afraid, unsure of what to say or do.

"Isn't it a little late for you little twerps to be out?" said a second voice.

One of the children rubbed his arm apprehensively. "W-We were just…playing, um, sirs… er, mams?"

The three teens looked at each other and laughed. They each pressed a button on their suits, and the armor unwrapped itself from their bodies, confirming both their genders for the children and their identities for the kids in the bushes. The fact that Cree and Chad were two of those teens did not surprise any of them much; but it was the third that caused Numbuh 1's breath to get caught in his throat. Numbuh 1.1 saw the blank expression on his face. "What? What is it?"

Numbuh 1 choked up one name: "Gabriel."

Cree laughed. "'You little brats alone?"

"N-No. Our mom's are over there." The other little girl pointed behind her, to where their mothers were still in deep conversation.

Gabriel looked over and smiled. "Far enough. You kids wanna play a game?"

"Sure!" The boy said eagerly. The girl pulled him back.

"Here's how you play: you try to run, and we catch you."

"You mean like tag?"

Chad looked at Cree and winked. "Something like that."

"You're it," Gabriel pointed out. "We'll count to three."

The children backed away, suddenly having doubts that this game would be any fun.

"One… Two…"

Their attention was suddenly taken away to the unexpected loud grunts and shouts of wrestling coming from where the tire swing was. Numbuh 4 had jumped onto one of the teenagers and was now in a grappling match with him. Numbuh 5 quickly joined in by wrestling to get the weapon that had been pointed at Numbuh 4 away from the other teen.

Seeing their opportunity, the two little children quickly rushed off to their mothers, who had finally become aware of the conflict going on behind them. The Kids Next Door also saw the window and leapt through. "Kids Next Door," Numbuh 1 shouted, "battle stations!"

Ignoring the oddness of hearing that, Numbuh 1.1 was the first to jump into the action, while Numbuhs 2 and 3 followed. Numbuh 1 hesitated before following.

Chad quickly selected his opponent. "Just in time for the party, kid."

"Wouldn't miss it, _teenager_." Numbuh 1.1's fist rushed towards Chad's face before meeting his palm instead.

Excited for an interesting final result of this fight sequence, Numbuh 2 did flips towards Cree. The teenager, in an attempt to appear capable of kicking butt, followed a similar example, until they stopped face to face with each other. "Did ya miss me, sweet lips?" Numbuh 2 said.

"You just won't get over that, will you tubby."

"Come on, you know there's something between us. Don't deny the electricity."

Cree pushed another button on her suit, and three small metal gadgets popped out of a compartment on her wrist. An electric current formed "Oh, I don't deny it, you little runt."

She was taken aback when somebody was suddenly sitting on her shoulders.

"_Wee_! Piggy-back!"

Gabriel looked around the park, his hands clenched into tight fists. Numbuh 1 suspected he was waiting. He sucked in a large amount of oxygen through his nose. This would have to prove something. He didn't feel quite ready yet, but it's what he had brought upon himself when joining the Kids Next Door. And so Numbuh 1 raised his SCAMPPER and aimed. He perfected, stilled his shaking hands, and then pulled the trigger. The laser shot right past his brother's ear.

Quickly, Gabriel turned around. He almost seemed relieved. "You usually had such good aim."

"I'm not focused," he replied. He wasn't lying entirely.

"You didn't have to join the Kids Next Door. You had your own choice."

Numbuh 1 nodded. "And I made it. It's what I want."

While Chad had been knocked down, surely capable of recovering from the blow he was given in the gut, Numbuh 1.1 could not help but overhear their dialogue.

"It's never too late if you want out."

"I want in," he assured. "You can't change my mind, Gabe."

Gabriel, at first, appeared only faintly disappointed, but nodded his head. "All right. It's your call." In the blink of an eye, he was firing back-to-back laser blasts. Numbuh 1 dodged them carefully and with skill until reaching the nearby slide, taking cover behind it and firing back occasional laser blasts of his own.

Numbuh 1.1 felt a sense of peculiarity between the two brothers. The thought disappeared when Chad retaliated by throwing his fist at him. Numbuh 1.1 dodged it expertly. Ceasing the opportunity, he grabbed Chad's extended arm and used it to hold him still in order to knee him in the groin. Chad fell to his knees, clutching the place between his legs.

"To think you were once a great operative," he taunted and received a glare.

He suddenly heard a shriek coming closer towards him. He turned around to see that Cree had leaped and was headed towards him, her foot making aim at his face. He did not find enough time to react, but soon realized he didn't need to, as she was knocked away by Numbuh 5. Both of them landed together away from him, wrestling to somehow trap the other.

Numbuh 4 knocked the helmet off of the red-headed teenager with a swift, strong punch. The teenager muttered something under his breath, attempting to strike Numbuh 4 back, but came too late as he received a quick kick in the stomach which sent him soaring backwards screaming like a little girl until he hit the spinning thing, startling Numbuh 2, who was nearby. The teenager saw stars and laughed "So pretty…"

Getting the same idea, the two of them ran towards the spinning thing. They both grabbed a bar on either side and pushed as hard as they could, and continued to do so until the teenager became a blur. They said together, "_Cinderella dressed in yella, w__ent down town to meet a fella. __On the way her girdle busted. __How many people were disgusted? One, two, three, four_-" A scream rang out as the red-head shot out from the spinning thing, and landed butt-first in the basketball hoop.

"Nothin' but net!" Numbuh 4 set his fists on his hips and nodded his head. "Ah'm tellin' ya, all those things people make up about th' moonlight givin' these dumb ol' teenagers secret powers ain't true."

Suddenly, the little Aussie was knocked forward by a sharp blast at his back. He yelped and hit the ground on his face.

"Numbuh 4!" Numbuh 2 ran to his friend.

He groaned. "Ah'm hit. Ak!- Ah'm down." He grabbed Numbuh 2's collar. "Go on without me, pal. Save yourself!"

Numbuh 5 saw her distressed teammate. Through concern and anger, she managed to knock her sister away from her, not out of commission, but just so that she could give them a break. "We'll finish this some other time, sis." Leaving it at that, she went to Numbuh 4.

It took Numbuh 1.1 a little longer to realize that this battle was over, and the only thing that should be their number one priority is getting Numbuh 4 back to the Treehouse for some medical attention. Chad attempted to tackle him to the ground, while he continued to dodge each of them. "Hold still, you brat!" Numbuh 1.1 didn't obey. Instead, he waited for Numbuh 1 to confirm the mandatory retreat that needed to follow.

But Numbuh 1 didn't. In fact, he didn't even know that Numbuh 4 was down. Gabriel kept giving him something new to be concerned about.

"Numbuh 1!" Numbuh 1.1 yelled. "We have to leave! Now!"

Numbuh 4's wound was getting temporary treatment as Numbuh 5 ripped off part of the end of her shirt and tied it around his shoulder.

Numbuh 1 managed to knock Gabriel to the ground by sweeping his leg under Gabriel's feet. "Right. Kids Next Door, _retreat_!"

Numbuhs 2 and 5 helped Numbuh 4 towards the ship, Numbuh 3 following close behind. A quick punch at the jaw gave Numbuh 1.1 enough time to get away from Chad. He followed Numbuh 1, who followed the rest of the team. In due time, they were in the ship and gone.

Gabriel watched the ship disappear into the night sky, leaving behind their triumph. Cree came up behind him. Chad did the same, rubbing his tender jaw.

Cree sensed his slight sadness. "'You okay?"

"Of course." Gabriel turned to them. "Let's move on. Things are just getting started."

**…Transmission Interrupted…**

* * *

_The world makes way for the man who knows where he is going._


	23. Thank You, and Goodnight

**…Transmission Continued…**

When evil didn't lurk within the walls of the Father's mansion, it was because Father wasn't home. As the man they called their "father" had gone out to yet another conference meeting with the villainous adults (the one he told them they weren't allowed to go to), the Delightful Children from Down the Lane were stuck at home. Often, they'd be doing something productive like scheming with the teenagers for an attack on the Kids Next Door, or blackmailing Kids Next Door allies, or even, when they were out of other ideas, polishing the Really, Really, Incredibly Destructive Machine that Father prized so much. Today, however, it was as if there was nothing left to do. The teenagers were in that conference with the adults, they were pretty much out of allies, and they'd polished the machine twice.

Instead, they sat on the sofa lazily and flipped through the channels, as if waiting for excitement to pop out of it. That was rare, since they were almost never satisfied with simply staring blindly at the TV screen like all those other dull-minded kids. They flipped and flipped and sighed, "Boring… boring… boring…"

"_Welcome back to the _Price is Correct_! I'm your host, Bob Barker and_-"

"_Charlie, did you take Jake out to the horse races again?-_"

"_You have the right to remain silent. If you give up that right, anything you_-"

"_Welcome to _Cooking with Kenny_. Today, we'll be making butterscotch brownies with chocolate chips._"

The Delightful Children sunk deeper into the sofa. "Father's favorite show," they said like they were going to fall asleep at the snap of somebody's fingers. Bored out of their minds, they finally decided that television was not going to save them from it. The blond boy clicked the power button and the TV screen flickered off. They sighed and chewed noisily on the potato chips.

They were relieved at the sound of the doorbell. "Oh, goodie. Visitors." They bounced up off their seat and rushed to the door. "We'll be right there," they called when the person rang the bell again.

The shortest Delightful with the pigtails turned the knob and pulled open the front door. "Yes?" They reeled back when they discovered who it was.

"Hi," said the little girl wearing a Skunky Scout badge and a cheeky smile. "Would you like to by some delicious peanut butter cookies?"

"Uh…" They exchanged glances. "No, thank you."

Laura Limpin's bliss dissolved into disappointment. "You won't buy my cookies?" she said with a trembling lower lip. Swiftly she crouched down when her body began to tremble. Multiple warts sprung out from beneath her skin, and she began to snarl under her breath. "Buy… my…" Her voice then changed to one of a professional wrestler. "…_cookies_!"

The Delightful Children stepped back fearfully when she grabbed the doorframe. "Buy my cookies!" she screamed again, sticking her head in through the doorway.

"All right, all right. We'll take two."

Two, they said. As a first grader, Laura had barely begun to learn how to multiply. However, somehow, she developed the ability to forcefully multiply the Delightful Children's request by a thousand or so, and so they had no choice but to accept the "generous offer."

Laura Limpin saluted her customers. "Thank you for helping to support the Skunky Skunk-"

"Yeah, yeah, we know."

They shut the door on the little girl and leaned against it. Out of patience, they looked up at the pile of cookie boxes in their entrance hall. "Well, at least we've got something to do now." They sighed. "Look at us! We were once Father's biggest hope of defeating the Kids Next Door, and now we've been stooped down to roaming around the mansion in our robes."

They looked up at the large portrait of them and their father. Again, they sighed. "Well, at least we're not worse off than those Kids Next Door."

...

"_Ak_! Careful with that."

"Well if you stop wiggling like a baby, it wouldn't hurt so much."

Numbuh 4 put his hand over the damage on his shoulder and scowled. "What is that stuff anyway?"

"Alcohol," Numbuh 3 replied as she squirted some more onto the cotton ball.

His eyebrows rushed to the top of his head. He quickly moved away. "Are ya nuts? Adults _drink_ that stuff. Next thing y' know, Ah'll be standin' on the table, wavin' my shirt over my head an' shoutin' '_Party in dorm seven!_' like a crazy person."

"Don't be a dummy head, Numbuh 4. Now hold still. This might burn a bit."

Deciding to comply, he squeezed his eyes shut and turned his head away as the cotton ball made contact with his wound.

As the doctor of his sector gave the hand-to-hand combat specialist special treatment, leaning against the doorway behind them, Numbuh 1.1 watched them over the rim of his sunglasses. He enjoyed seeing them interact together. Now he knew how his parents were feeling when they saw him and Lizzie together. Not exactly pride, but pleasure. The corner of his mouth tightened when a blush spread across Numbuh 4's face as Numbuh 3 began wrapping gauze around his shoulder.

Behind him, another person came up and leaned against the opposite part of the doorframe. "Hey," Numbuh 1 said to him.

"Hi," Numbuh 1.1 responded, tranquilly.

That was that. And so as neither of them said another word, in plain view they watched Numbuh 3 continue to treat Numbuh 4.

"Is he going to be okay?"

"Yeah. Numbuh 3 said he'd be good as new in a couple of days."

Numbuh 1 nodded. "Good. That's a relief."

Again, neither of them made a sound, distracted by Numbuh 3 finishing up the role of gauze and pinning it secure. She turned to the first-aid kit and began digging through it while Numbuh 4 ran his fingers over the strange, itchy material wrapped around his shoulder.

Numbuh 1.1 lowered his gaze to his boots, and then to Numbuh 1. "Listen," he said, "I meant to talk to you. Care to talk a walk?"

Numbuh 1 nodded. "Sure."

So they left Numbuhs 3 and 4 to their moment of innermost denial and strode down a quiet corridor. Numbuh 1.1 made sure to secretly steer them towards the kitchen; he was suddenly in the mood for a bowl of vanilla ice cream with sprinkles and chocolate sauce. But in the meantime, he wanted to let his new leader know a few things.

"I was wondering about today's mission," he started with. "You and your brother."

Clearly knowing where this was headed, Numbuh 1's expression turned from curiosity to that of embarrassment in a flash.

"I just wanted to make sure things were all right. I mean, you're not the only operative here who has a sibling working against the Kids Next Door."

Numbuh 1 kept silent, allowing him to say all he wanted to say before giving him a full answer.

"So if you want to talk about it, you know… You're not alone."

"You don't have to worry about me. I can handle my brother," he reassured. "I'm sorry about tonight; I won't let him get in the way of my duty anymore."

Numbuh 1.1 bit his tongue. "That's not what I was implying."

"No, that's all right," he quickly said. "I know you weren't. But you're right; I _do_ still have a few things going on that attaches me to him." As they came to a flight of stairs that led them to the floor below, Numbuh 1 impeded his pace, as did Numbuh 1.1. "He's my brother. I thought this would be so much easier, Numbuh 1…_point 1_." He sighed.

"Nigel's fine for now," Numbuh 1.1 declared.

Numbuh 1 nodded his head thankfully. "It's not easy at all. As much as I love one thing, I'm devoted to the other." He leaned against his elbow on the doorframe and suddenly broke into a small smile. "I'm not exaggerating when I say that you guys are the best thing that's ever happened to me. I can't stand the thought of giving this up for somebody who could betray the Kids Next Door like that."

As honest as he was being, all the doubts he ever could have had, Numbuh 1.1 wasn't surprised to hear those words. "I'm glad to hear that. That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about."

"Oh?"

Numbuh 1.1 continued to lead them down the flight of stairs. "See, the thing about being leader of this sector… It's more than just leading the missions. Plenty of operatives can lead missions if they want to; maintaining a level head and keeping the mission in proper organization, that's not what makes this job difficult."

"Then what is?" he asked.

He opened his mouth to speak, closed it, and then opened it again to say, "It's the constant pressure. Not the pressure you might think: not the fact that _you're_ responsible for the success or failure of the missions. It's not the pressure of responsibility of protecting the team. It's more of…the pressure of being both a leader _and_ a friend to them."

"But you're good at it. They look up to you." Numbuh 1 bit his lip. "I mean, _was_… Well, you still are…"

Numbuh 1.1 waved his hand in an excusing manner. "Forget it. And I thought so too at first. But after I was replaced, it gave me a new outlook. Watching you, I know I could have done so much better." Why was his heart starting to feel so heavy? Silly question; he knew why. He just wished it'd stop. "I care so much about them."

"I know you do."

"Then you understand?"

Numbuh 1 lowered his head. "More than you know. Let's face it," – he nudged him playfully – "you left big shoes to fill."

Numbuh 1.1 looked down at his feet. "They're not that big."

They both shared a laugh.

...

Numbuh 1.1 stood at the foot of his bed, staring down at the comforter in a trance. The rocket ship images seemed more like an illusion than they ever did before, so much so that he didn't even notice the sun beginning to rise. He hadn't slept once that night. But he hadn't expected to anyway. Not before what he was planning on finally getting out of the way.

**...Transmission Interrupted...**

_Never say never._


End file.
